Eriecho
by jespah
Summary: When Nero and Spock Prime go back in time, the USS Kelvin and the planet Vulcan are both destroyed. Vulcans become an endangered species, and even prisoners like Eriecho and her adoptive father, Saddik, are whisked away, to help repair the damage done to one of the earliest members of the Federation. These are their stories.
1. 1-Release

_She is not my daughter._

The thoughts came, unbidden, as Saddik attempted to meditate.

 _Eriecho is not mine. There is no blood relation. We could, at Pon Farr …._

He banished the thoughts from his mind, but it was difficult to concentrate. It was never easy to concentrate at Canamar.

He thought back to when he had first come to Canamar Prison – when they both had, actually. Their ship had gone to Keto-Enol, to do trading with Enolians in preparation for a survey run. And nothing more, it was not like they were sightseeing or anything. But the Enolians had mistaken them for thieves. There had been no trial, just a talk with a biased Judicial Administrator. And the Administrator had sentenced them all to Canamar. T'Kef had been with child, and she went into labor while on the prison transport.

He had delivered the infant even though he had no medical training whatsoever. The other prisoners on the transport had hooted and hollered, getting a free show of female Vulcan genitalia as T'Kef screamed, for there were no medicines. T'Kef had not survived much longer than that, a victim of untreated massive blood loss. It seemed that her daughter could not possibly live. Saddik knew it was not logical for the child to go on.

But at Canamar there was one female prisoner, a Suliban named H'Shema. She was an angry thing, prickly and understandably concerned about preventing violations to her person. When she first saw Saddik, she had threatened him with a metal shank. But then she had seen the infant, and her demeanor had softened. She had come voluntarily, once she had heard there was an infant. It did not matter that the infant was not Sul.

Saddik had needed her. She could not nurse the infant – she was far from her childbearing years – but H'Shema was resourceful, and was able to get powdered milk and the semblance of swaddling and Saddik never asked her how she got it. He was just grateful – an emotion, to be sure, but a thoroughly appropriate one – whenever she did so.

He even allowed her to name the infant. He had not been T'Kef's husband, and that man, Sterrik, had, too, died on the Enolian transport, fighting to save his wife and deliver his own child. So H'Shema had named the infant – Eriecho.

The name meant nothing, so far as Saddik knew. It was just a pleasing sound for H'Shema, a bit of euphony amidst the harshness of Canamar existence. The three of them had, somewhat, lived together, a semblance of a family in that terrible prison realm. It had been over thirty years. He was eighty-seven. Eriecho was thirty-one, beginning to come into her own as, almost, an adult. And H'Shema was gone, and had been so for four years.

And so he had no one for Pon Farr this time around, which he knew would be happening fairly soon. H'Shema had been a poor substitute for a Vulcan woman, but she had tried. He had not loved her, and she had not loved him, but he was grateful – there, that word again – that she was willing enough to help him out with Pon Farr, and on more than one occasion.

And now, Surak help him, he was considering satisfying Pon Farr with Eriecho.

=/\=

"Are you _sure_?" Kerev asked. The Communications Officer nodded and then departed. Kerev sighed. Off-worlders would come, look into Canamar and undoubtedly they would not like what they saw, like they had a century before. But it would have to be done. They had heard the news. Everyone in the sector had. The planet Vulcan was gone, destroyed and now a rapidly fading memory, a swallow departed after the last of summer's many nights.

And now the remnants of the Vulcan High Command was calling for all Vulcans, of any age, both genders, any factions, and even prisoners, to be returned. They had not only contacted Canamar. They had also contacted the Romulans' old Gemara Prison, on Berren Five, and even the Klingon prison, Rura Penthe, in the hopes that there would be at least one Vulcan, even in those godforsaken realms. The reason was for the highly logical concept of attempting to repopulate the species, and put back what had been pulverized by Nero, whose murderous run had resulted in the loss of an Earth starship – the _USS Kelvin_ – and the Vulcan home world. Nero had been busy.

It was also highly _il_ logical, Kerev figured. He was but a prison commandant, but he knew this much – put all the targ in one pen, and then set a flamethrower to it, and you barbecue all of the targ at once. Or put all of the surviving Vulcans together, on a planet or a moon or a convoy of ships, whatever, and then a few well-aimed phaser blasts or so, and the Vulcan race would be no more. Or perhaps an old-style Xindi weapon, like they had tried to use against Earth in 2153 and 2154. A few disgruntled Xindi engineers could, perhaps, be convinced to revive the old schematics and the like. He shrugged. It was useless to speculate. That was not his job.

His job, instead, was to keep his prisoners together, and in line. Most of them more or less fended for themselves. He supplied the food and water, a roof and rough blankets, enough for all. _How could it possibly be his fault if distribution broke down? Was it his doing that there were stronger or craftier inmates who took more than their share, or extorted seconds from the weaker prisoners?_ If he had known who Charles Darwin was, he would have said it was Darwinian. Survival of the fittest – Canamar was an exemplar of evolution, resplendent in red – _or green_ – tooth and claw.

And now he had orders from his government to let go of two of his most compliant prisoners, the only Vulcans he had – Saddik and the only female anywhere in Canamar, Eriecho.

He did not relish the loss of the only bit of femininity, even though Eriecho was far from gentle or sweet. Prison life can do that to nearly anyone, even Vulcans, turning them hard and angry, bitter at the universe and mistrusting of all. Eriecho was no exception. It was the only life she had ever known.

=/\=

"Is this a ruse?" Saddik inquired of the prison guard who had come to their, well, _home_ was too strong a word for it. It was their sole patch of belonging. It was where he and Eriecho slept, and where H'Shema had, as well, in her later years. It held their few meager possessions.

"It is no ruse. You are both to come with me."

Saddik held his hands out for cuffing, and Eriecho did the same. This was a not unfamiliar posture for them. What was unfamiliar and strange was that the guard did not cuff either of them. They looked at each other, but it was, of course, foolish to tell the guard that he had erred. It was, perhaps, an opportunity. They both looked around, eyes searching for what to do and how to best take advantage. They knew that departure from the grounds would bring forth a search. They knew that there were usually some sorts of ships nearby, for supplies or prisoner transport or the like, but those pilots generally did not accept unexpected passengers unless some sort of major bribe was offered. And what did they have to offer? The extra wooden spoon, which had belonged to H'Shema? Eriecho's body for ravishing? They had few options. Saddik gave Eriecho the eye _– just, see what happens_ , he was trying to, wordlessly, communicate with her. _Nothing more_.

She nodded slightly. They were far from telepathic. It was just that they _knew_ each other. And H'Shema had known them as well. There were always chances. What one did with them was what mattered.

The commandant was in his office. "I'll be right outside the door," said the guard. The door was partly closed but not shut. He could burst back in, at any moment, if Commandant Kerev was in any real peril.

"Welcome," Kerev said, tight smile playing across his lips, "I don't have plomeek broth, of course, or really much that you would enjoy, but there is fresh immature olowa fruit. Help yourselves." He gestured at a bowl of dark purple fruit on his desk.

Eriecho and Saddik both hesitated. The commandant wasn't just going to give them something for nothing. The olowa, no matter how wonderful its pear-like flavor and eggplant-like color and grapefruit-like consistency was, could potentially come with a rather hefty price tag.

"Go ahead!" Kerev smiled. "Here, I will start." He took a great dark purple globe and laid it out on a napkin, and then plunged a small knife into it. He sliced off quarters. One each, with an extra, perhaps for the guard. Or maybe they would be pushed to fight over it for Kerev's own amusement.

He practically had to press the pieces into their hands. Eriecho tentatively tasted it. Olowa changes in flavor, from pears to spicy to, eventually peanutty and then, after that, as the fruit pales from dark purple to a medium violet to lavender, it finally goes ashy grey and becomes thoroughly inedible. It petrifies, and one can readily break a tooth. This olowa was going spicy. Still good and still messily juicy, but the dark purple skin betrayed its turning innards. It had been artificially ripened. Its exterior was a lie, like so many exteriors she had seen in her short life on Canamar.

Saddik remembered his manners. "Thank you, Commandant Kerev." He bowed his head slightly and nibbled a little on the olowa. It was turning, but still it was far better than the thin gruel they normally got. Much of the time, their fare was not vegan. It troubled him to be eating that way. This, at least, was solely composed of plant matter. He tried to savor it and eat it slowly, but something so luscious, even artificially ripened, was such a rarity in his life. He practically swallowed the remainder whole.

"You may be wondering why you are here," Kerev said. A rhetorical question, to be sure. _Of course_ they were wondering. "I have received orders from the government at Keto-Enol. You are to be freed at once. Gather whatever you are taking. The transport will be here in," he paused to check a display, "less than one hour."

"What has happened?" Saddik inquired. He did not wish to look this gift horse in the mouth, but it wasn't every day that one was suddenly freed from over three decades of hell. Had they, perhaps, finally been exonerated? If he had known this one old Earth expression, he would have recalled it then – _the mills of the gods grind slowly, but they grind exceedingly fine_. But he knew no such expressions.

"Vulcan has been destroyed. The populace is at a critical point; your species is close to extinction. So they will take anyone in for breeding, even old yard birds like the two of you." He got up and smacked Saddik on the back, hard, "Old man, you're gonna get your pick of fine young Vulcan honeys. And you," he addressed Eriecho, "you'll be squeezing out pointy-eared sehlats soon!"

Eriecho was about to call him some sort of a name but a look from Saddik squelched that impulse. "We must prepare, and pack," she said.

They departed, but not until after Kerev had pressed the final quarter of olowa fruit into her hands. "A baby gift!" he had roared into her bewildered face.

=/\=

Back at their little patch, they looked around. "Do we need?" Eriecho would ask about something or other, and Saddik would just shake his head. There was no need for wooden spoons or metal bowls or raggedy old blankets. The flattened mats could stay. The laundry – their single change of undergarments – they could leave that behind as well. There was but one thing. A small bit of green cloth – Saddik took that. Eriecho looked at him, and at the cloth. "That was H'Shema's," she said.

"Yes," he replied, "it is just about all there is left of H'Shema."

They were escorted to the waiting transport, which was nearly empty, apart from them and the transport's staff. There were no other Vulcans aboard. Apart from a few bored guards, no one saw them off.

=/\=

"What is a sehlat?" Eriecho finally asked, after they had been flying for a while.

"Oh, uh, it's a large mammal on Vulc –" he stopped in mid-syllable. Vulcan was no more. What hope had the sehlats ever had?

"Oh."

There was a long silence, and he was alone with his thoughts.

 _Vulcan women! They will know what to do during Pon Farr! My salvation! Perhaps I really will enjoy several, or a younger one, or …_

"What shall we do with our time?" Eriecho asked, interrupting his silent musings.

"Time?"

"Yes, time," Eriecho said, "for I have never had free time, unrestricted and unfettered before. I am afraid I will not know what to do with myself." She reached into her ratty old cloak and took out H'Shema's old metal shank – that was what she had grabbed of their Spartan possessions before they had left.

"Is that for a reminder, or is it for protection?" Saddik asked.

"Both. No one should bother us. We are armed."

"Canamar is not the way the rest of the galaxy is."

"I am not so sure I believe you," Eriecho said, "for are we not facing extinction? I would say that, if Vulcans are not normally aggressive, perhaps we should start being so."

He smiled wryly, and then caught himself. "The Vulcans you are going to meet, they are not going to smile or threaten or weep. They suppress their emotions and meditate every evening. And they use logic to solve their problems, not an old Sul woman's metal shank."

"This _is_ logical," Eriecho said, brandishing the shank a little, "for we are off to parts unknown. It is reasonable to carry a piece. As for the remainder, I have seen your attempts to meditate, you know. You do not seem to get much out of it. Did meditation take you away from Canamar? Were you able to escape in your mind?"

"It was not for that purpose," he said, but now, for the life of him, he could not quite recall the true purpose of Vulcan meditation. It seemed useless to him, as unnecessary as she had undoubtedly seen it over the years.

"Then what was the purpose?"

"To calm me, to center me," he said, trying to defend an ancient way of life that had done him no good in prison and, now, seemed to be equally bereft of meaning on the outside.

She was about to answer that when a transport attendant came over. "We have plomeek broth," she said, "I can replicate it for you."

"Yes!" Saddik was perhaps overly enthused. The transport attendant, an Andorian, waggled an antenna at him, but she did bring over two bowls.

Eriecho tried hers, and then pushed it away. "This is not much better than prison fare."

"This is the food of our people," Saddik said, "please, at least try it two more times. Then if you continue to despise it, I will not ask you again. _Please_?"

She complied, and ended up finishing the bowl. "What other things are there to eat? Are sehlat eaten?"

"No, sehlat are not eaten," he said, "and our people are vegans."

"Vegans! How dreadful!"

"It is our way."

"It is not _my_ way," Eriecho complained.

"Just … try."

The attendant returned with two PADDs. "I thought you might want to see what has been happening recently."

"I, I do not know how to use this," Saddik said, bewildered at the thoroughly unfamiliar layout. Technology had marched on in the past three decades, while he had been cooling his heels in Canamar.

"A moment," said the attendant. She clicked around a bit. "Here, just use the stylus here or tap there with a finger."

"What should I read?" Saddik asked.

"Whatever you like. Feel free to keep the PADDs." The attendant walked back to her station.

"I have had nothing to read for decades," he said, "all that we had was when H'Shema and I would trace the letters in the dirt, do you remember, Eriecho? We taught you to read in the dust."

"I do not think I trust this device," Eriecho said, looking dismissively at the PADD. It had slipped back to a sleep mode and it showed the date – _August seventeenth of 2262_ – and the time – _1430 hours_ – and the temperature on the transport – _18 C_.

"Try," he repeated.

"There is so much to try," she said, and it wasn't said out of a sense of wonder, more it sounded like a bit of resignation.

"I know," he said, "and it will keep coming at us, as we get used to the outside world."

"It is all coming so fast," Eriecho said, "I am afraid I cannot process it. I do not trust enemies and differences, problems and changes that come and cannot be fended off with a metal shank. It is all too much."

"I, I know," he said, "but there may be others like us, unused to the open spaces and the free time and the unfettered air. Surely there are others who are adjusting."

=/\=

They landed on a red planet with dusky skies. Plenty of people came to greet them, but none had the familiar Vulcan pointed ears. "What are these people?" Eriecho asked.

"I believe they are humans, but I am unsure. I have never actually seen one before."

"Welcome to Mars," said a big man and, if they had known, they would have recognized his accent as the gentle Southern drawl common to all who have grown up either in the Earth's Carolinas or on Titania. "I'm Colonel Jack Shaw, and I'm here to get ya'll settled. You have bags?"

"No, no bags," Saddik said. _Just baggage_.

The corridors were lined with humans. It seemed an immense security risk. Perhaps Eriecho was right to have the shank with her. They were smiling and all, but Saddik knew that smiles could often hide true intentions. And why would these people want to help them? Surely they would want something. _Of course they must want something!_ That was the prison way – everyone wanted something. Every act, every deed, even every sin, had an equal and an opposite counteract, counter-deed, counter-sin. And on and on throughout there was a tangled web of obligations.

They stepped out into weak sunlight. The air was chilly and a little damp. "There'll be a debriefing tomorrow," Shaw said, "For now, just get settled and get acquainted," he paused, "ah, here's your driver now."

A vehicle pulled up, driven by a male Vulcan. Shaw left them, and they were driven, in silence, to a small settlement with tiny homes that were little more than Quonset huts.

They were showed into one such hut. It was small and a bit dimly lit. There were two sleeping chambers, a little bathroom, a small eating area with a replicator and another room for meditation, into which someone had thoughtfully placed two Communicators, two candles and a flint striker. Eriecho twirled around the meditation room – "It's so big!" she cried out joyfully.

"Yes, it is far larger than our space at Canamar. But you will learn; this is actually rather small," Saddik told her.

"I don't care. To me, it's big. Where are the clothes hung?"

"They aren't," he replied; "we replicate more as we need them, and throw them down this chute at night. The kitchen garbage goes there as well. It is all sorted out in some mechanical fashion. I do not know the details."

"And there's a bathroom! Do we have to open our door and share it with the others?"

"No," he laughed a little at that, "they have their own, I imagine."

"Such luxury," she said, "they will want something from us, the humans, right?"

"Probably," he agreed, "we shall see what that is. In the meantime, perhaps you will replicate yourself a new tunic and pants? I know I would like to be out of prison garb, once and for all. I bet you would want that, too."

"Yes, of course. Would something in green be too hard a reminder?" she indicated the bit of green cloth, which he had placed on what was apparently their new kitchen table.

"No, it would be good, and appropriate. We can imagine that H'Shema came along with us." He helped her replicate her new clothes, and then had the machine make him some as well.

Eriecho went into the little bathroom to change – they had not yet decided who would get which of the bed chambers. Saddik turned on the PADD again and clicked around, finding a search feature. He typed _Suliban H'Shema family_. The response came back – _seventeen records_. He found an address and typed a letter, telling them of H'Shema's death at Canamar, and informing them that she had been kind to two Vulcans who had needed her. He also asked what the name _Eriecho_ meant, if anything. A response of thanks came quickly, with a small photograph of H'Shema in early years, before prison life, when she had almost been pretty, and it had the answer to his question.

=/\=

Colonel Shaw stared out the window of his office. Jack Shaw – _jackdaw, Jack Straw, jackass,_ even – it didn't matter. He had heard them all. He knew what it was like to be the new kid, and to try and fit in. He wondered, a little bit, about how the community would fit together, in particular considering the newcomers. The place was like a summer camp for Vulcans – did any of them appreciate it? It was so hard to tell. Vulcans, for sure, they weren't _supposed_ to have emotions. But they had to have some sort of a reaction, right?

They had held humans back for so long, in the beginning, for maybe a century after first contact. And now, suddenly, they _needed_ humans. The shoe was, most definitely, on the other foot. Who knew how they felt about that? It had to be, to quote Vulcans he had known … _unsettling_. Bah! It was a lot more than that, but no one would admit it, of course. They were vulnerable now. It was up to him and to others like him, to not exploit that vulnerability.

He frowned as he looked over the reports on his PADD. He was currently in charge of six hundred adult Vulcans, and had been tasked with quintupling that number every other year. Naturally, that would not be simply through the application of some sort of Pon Farr acceleration – if there even was such a thing. Rather, there were plenty of human women on Mars who had heard about the loss of such a close ally's home world. They were stepping up to the plate, more than willing to act as surrogate mothers.

 _Rent a womb_ , as it were.

And then there was the process of figuring out who was to be paired off with whom. The individuals would marry – or not – as they desired, even going to other locations if there was no one desired among the six hundred available on Mars. But parentage was another matter entirely. Old Vulcan law had not permitted relations or marriage between individuals with a closer than third degree of kinship. A zero degree was the individual himself, or herself. One degree was parents, offspring and full-blooded siblings. Second degree was grandparents and grandchildren, aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews and first cousins. Third degree was great-grandparents – the thought of relations with his great-grandmother made Shaw shudder a little – great-uncles and great-aunts, grand-nieces and grand-nephews, great-grandchildren and second cousins, e. g. persons with at least one great-grandparent in common.

But the limited gene pool made such niceties obsolete. The Vulcan High Command, such as it was, had given permission to mix gametes with as little as a second degree of kinship. Anything less was deemed too risky for genetic problems. Plus, he suspected, it probably gave even the Vulcans the willies to be interbreeding siblings.

Hence a thriving trade had been set up, among all of the other Vulcan sanctuary administrators, including him. For that was what the Martian location was – a settlement known as a Vulcan sanctuary. There were others, on Andoria, and Proxima Centauri and even in more remote locales like Betazed and the Lafa system and on some of the deep space stations.

In order to assure maximal genetic diversity, the trade had begun. _I've got a blonde gal with hazel eyes; trade ya for a middle-aged guy with great teeth!_ If the Vulcans had known the details, they would have been the Vulcan version of appalled, he was sure.

But he smiled to himself. Two newcomers! The idea of going after prisoners had been his. And these two had a degree of kinship that was no less than eighth with any of the ten or twelve thousand or so known surviving Vulcans and their descendants in any of the sanctuaries. This gave him a lot more bargaining chips. Perhaps he'd be able to get that little house he'd had his eye on for a while? _Trade ya a sullen yet powerful female, looks to be a runner and a weight lifter, and an old guy with a Roman nose, for a house on Tandar Prime._ Julie had said she loved the house. Yeah, that could work.

=/\=

A siren sounded. Eriecho and Saddik both froze. "Are we being returned?!" she asked, voice rising in panic.

"I, I don't know. This seems a cruel irony if that is so." He peered out a window. Several Vulcans were coming out of their homes, perhaps a few hundred, and were all walking toward a much larger central building. He had scarcely noticed it before, but it was clearly the focal point of the settlement. He rushed out. "What is happening?" he asked the first people he saw, a young couple.

They looked at him strangely, and he realized just how much emotion was in his voice. "I meant to inquire," He modulated his voice a lot better this time, "as to what the siren means, and where you are all walking to?"

"We are going to the evening meal," said the man – husband, perhaps. They walked away.

Saddik rushed back in. "It is all right. There is, I did not realize, but they provide an evening meal. I have not yet read the literature. Perhaps, after our meal, we should, so that there are fewer of these seemingly unpleasant surprises."

Eriecho nodded, and then adjusted her new green tunic and pants. Wordlessly, she placed the metal shake in her tunic, just in case.

They walked over with the others. The tables were long wooden benches, not much better than for a picnic. There were no private tables. They sat together, on an end, near a middle-aged man with an older woman who was possibly his elderly mother. There was another empty seat as well. Steaming bowls were set in front of them. Eriecho was about to begin when the old woman gave her a stern look, so Eriecho waited.

Shaw came in and stood at the front of the room. Everyone became quiet almost immediately. "I'd like to welcome our two newest guests, Eriecho and Saddik. They come to us from Canamar. I am sure they'll need a little adjustment time, not only to get used to their new living situation and all of you, but also to get used to the fact that the Vulcan home world is no more. I would have hoped, for their sakes that freedom would not have to be tainted with such bad news. I'm sorry about that."

Several people stared at them, and Saddik saw all manner of Vulcan females looking. He knew he was old, and that he had never been what anyone would have called handsome, but he had one big thing going for him – _novelty_. There were some males looking at Eriecho, as well. Saddik wasn't so sure what he thought about that.

Shaw paused and coughed once before continuing. "For their benefit, I'd like to recite the schedule. I know that everyone else has heard it before. Kindly humor me, all right? There is a morning siren at oh six hundred hours, for you all to wake up. You are responsible for your morning meals. At oh seven hundred hours, there is another siren, indicating the start of morning activities. There are a lot of things you can sign up for. Children, naturally, are in school. For adults, we have cultural lectures and art classes, or you can garden or enjoy exercise. We do not mean to overly structure your days but we are trying to keep you safe while you are all here. I do hope you understand our motivations, even as we may be a bit clumsy in executing them."

The room was silent except for Eriecho, who chuckled a little bit. The other Vulcans stared. Shaw continued, "There is another siren at noon. You are responsible for your own midday meals. This is free time until fourteen hundred hours. Then there is another siren indicating afternoon activities, which are similar to the morning activities but also include work units. We have tried to accommodate your specialties as much as possible but I admit that the fits are not necessarily perfect ones. So, please, I hope you'll be a bit forgiving of any disconnects. A siren at eighteen hundred hours indicates that afternoon work is concluded and you've got an hour to prepare for the evening meal. Of course, there's another siren at nineteen hundred hours, then please come here for the evening meal. There's no rule that says you can't make your own evening meal and enjoy it at home. We provide this because we think you should get to know one another. As you might have guessed, the Vulcan High Command considers such a move to be _logical_." He said the last word with a little relish and Eriecho chuckled again.

"Then the evenings are your own. Of course there are also doctor's visits. Those appointments can and do happen at pretty much any time of the day. These are for pregnancy testing and prenatal care, and for gamete harvesting and extraction. Plus there are a large number of human surrogate mothers; they are anxious to spend time with you and I hope that you will be able to foster some bonds with them. We have truly excellent volunteers. Some of them are even carrying twins and triplets, and they're doing it all for you. We are committed to helping your species through this rough patch. In many ways, we feel we owe it to your species, for your friendship throughout the years. This is our motivation. Eventually, we will, working with the Vulcan High Command, find you a new home world. For now, I hope you will consider this sanctuary to be your home. But if you need to transfer, there are other sanctuaries, including on Callisto and Oberon just here in the Solar System. But for my own selfish reasons, I do hope that you will stay. Thank you."

There was no applause, they just started eating. The middle-aged Vulcan male stared at Eriecho. "You show emotions."

"Yes, I do," she said, bristling a little, "and I wonder why none of you do. You seem to be repulsed by feelings. No, wait, that's an emotion. How can you be so paradoxical?"

"What my –" Saddik began.

"You need not defend me," Eriecho said, hand on the end of the shank within her tunic, "I can defend myself."

"No doubt," said the old woman, "and not even a proper Vulcan name," she sniffed.

"My mother gave me a perfectly good name," Eriecho said, "And I do not know yours. I would consider that rude, for you to judge me without me so much as even knowing you."

"Lecturing on manners and civility when one is little more than a wild animal! It is not logical to pretend to have a specialty that you do not," said the old woman.

"We wish for peace here," Saddik said, looking meaningfully over at Eriecho. She still had her hand on the end of the hidden shank, "and for courtesy. We recognize that acceptance may take longer."

" _Convicts_. This entire scenario is much like a prison," complained the matron.

Eriecho laughed, an act that made their dinner companions appear even more discomfited. "If you knew of prison life, you would see that this is a garden of delight in comparison. There are open spaces. There are no guard towers. You do not share a bathroom. You do not need to do laundry. Your movements and activities are structured but are not forced," she paused and then added, "It is not logical to pretend to have a specialty that you do not."

The old woman's companion was impassive but he did look around. "I do not see any other empty seats," he finally said, "It is logical for us to refrain from any more small talk."

"Agreed," Saddik said.

A young man ran in, late. The only seat was next to Eriecho. He ran over and then stopped short. "I, is this seat taken?"

"I do not believe so. Will you be insulting my name and my mother?"

"No," he said cautiously, "I am here for the evening meal."

She laughed a little more. "Now _that_ is logical."

And Saddik, watching, thought about how there would be, perhaps, someone for Eriecho, if she could hold her tongue once in a while and make more of an effort to subsume her emotions and fit in with the others. Perhaps she would learn to do so, in time. And maybe there would even be someone for him, if he was careful and played the no-emotions logic game a bit better and with more finesse. He was rusty and needed to get back in the swing of things. If he could find someone before Pon Farr, that would be ideal.

And Eriecho, who was already conversing with her new companion and smiling and there was the tiniest of smiles in her companion's eyes as well – Saddik looked at her and her hand was off the metal shank and she was indeed trying, so very hard.

He knew the meaning of _Eriecho_ , what H'Shema had said to him, and to Eriecho, all those years ago when she had claimed them as her own – _daughter_.

This will be my release, and this will be yours.

 _She is my daughter._


	2. 2-Beats

They were there.

Every species but hers, it seemed. The shadows were dim and moved, sweeping along, upper left to lower right, in time with the rhythm of a circulating fan that brought a bit of slightly less stale air to the cells below.

The rhythm. Slow and steady, then faster, punctuated by breath, hard and heavy, catching as a small sound escaped at times. Not words. Just sounds. Animal sounds. Friction.

Then clanging, and it was a new rhythm, as metallic sounds thunk-thunk-thunked along bars, batons on steel, forks on plates.

The beat. Feet marching, feet going as fast as the whipping, as slow as the chains, all in one direction, the yard close by.

Another beat. Feet on a floor, then feet on the soil, air rushing in, briefly, oh so briefly, then beats of feet back onto a floor, as fast as whips, as slow as tethers.

Forks on bowls. Clangs of metal again. A beat of cups to table, cups to lips, back to table. Regimented and controlled. Forks on bowls. Bowls taken. Forks brought back. A small patch of belonging.

Clangs again. Batons on bars. Batons on hands. Her hands. A grunt. An exchange of what were barely words.

More friction. More rhythm. Faster and faster. A small sound of pleasure. A payment for a job well done. A privilege. A bit of better food. A bit of green cloth.

Feet silenced. Snores. Pushes and gropes in the night. More rhythm. Friction again. Payment stolen from her this time. No way to scream. Worse if she would scream.

A slap. Another. Taking punishment. Being punished for nothing in particular. Being punished as everyone was punished.

A view of a corpse, not of her own species, but of a Suliban woman, ancient and looking more ancient due to the conditions. A body dressed in the bit of green cloth. The body of the only one who had been mother. The body taken. Leaving her with only the one she called her father, who could not protect her, from the friction and the theft and the batons and the grunts and the pushes and the gropes.

A hand on her shoulder. A silent scream.

Blinding light.

"Eriecho, wake up!" Saddik called out. "Awaken, you were having a nightmare."

Eriecho gasped. "I was back in Canamar." She looked around the four walls of her tiny room on Mars. "It was awful. I saw them taking away H'Shema's body."

"We are home. We are safe. H'Shema is, she is in a better place, I am sure," Saddik said.

"A place," Eriecho opined, "a better place must be one like this one, like Mars, a place without beatings."


	3. 3-Double Helix

DNA isn't the only thing that defines a family.

Eriecho and Saddik sat together in the transport. It was chilly and smelled vaguely of – what was that? It was something resembling cabbages.

The transport was crowded with people of various species. Tall Imvari sat near azure-colored Andorians, as Tellarites chatted and, in one corner, a game not unlike blackjack was being played by a passel of Tandarans.

There was a little Xyrillian boy sitting with his mother, across from them. He kept staring and staring at Saddik and Eriecho, and their human escort, MACO Private Theo Carter.

Saddik had thought there was no need for an escort, but Colonel Shaw had insisted. There were so few Vulcans left, and his and Eriecho's relationships to the other survivors was relatively genetically remote. There was a value there, try as they might to deny it. And so Shaw had told them that, while they were free to go wherever they pleased, he would fret until their return to the Martian sanctuary unless they were escorted by someone who was armed. The worry was not wholly without logic, and so Saddik had, albeit reluctantly, agreed. When Nero had destroyed Vulcan, he had, in some ways, taken trust with him. And the Vulcans – even ex-convicts like Saddik and Eriecho – were protected and watched over and the relationship they had with other species was, now, uncomfortably uneven.

The little boy kept staring, so finally Eriecho began to stare back. "Oh, I am sorry," the boy's mother finally said, as she tried to turn her son's attention somewhere else.

"What are they, Mummy?" the little boy asked.

"That is impolite, Vir'ajen. We do not ask about someone's species as if they were a specimen in a zoological park."

"But I have never seen such people before, Mummy!"

"I'm a human, little boy," said Carter, "I'm from Earth. Do you know where Earth is?"

"Far, far away?" Vir'ajen asked.

"That's right," said Carter, shifting his weight in his seat. He was armed, but the kid didn't need to see that.

"What are _they_?" inquired the boy, pointing.

" _Vir'ajen_!"

"It is … all right," Saddik said, "I imagine we are rather rare and unfamiliar indeed. We are called _Vulcans_."

"Are you the same as human?" asked Vir'ajen, an inquiry that made Carter smile a little.

"No, we are _not_ ," Eriecho said, speaking for the first time, "We are from a planet called Vulcan." The line of inquiry was making her a bit uncomfortable. She and Saddik had lived at the Vulcan sanctuary on Mars for almost two months, at the good graces of humans like Carter and Shaw. Then again, any surviving Vulcans had homes and protection only because humans and Andorians and Tellarites and the like had given them a place after the destruction of their home world.

 _Vulcan_. She had never been there, for she had been born during transport to the Enolian prison at Canamar. She had only been free for a few months. Until her release, the only other Vulcan she had ever known had been Saddik.

And now, anyone born since 2258 – whether it was the child of a human like Carter, or a Xyrillian like little Vir'ajen, or even a Vulcan born of a human surrogate mother – none of them could ever go to Vulcan, either. Even though she had never known the place, and even though she knew that emotions, allegedly, were supposed to be suppressed and ignored and rooted out like weeds, she was still bereft and damaged by the loss.

"Where is Vulcan?" asked Vir'ajen.

The mother blanched. "My apologies," she said, "he is a curious little boy, and he does not know."

Saddik took it upon himself to respond. "I had not been there for decades when we learned the truth. My, my daughter," he indicated Eriecho, even though they were not kin. They were close enough. She had, for all intents and purposes, been adopted by him, "she had never been there. It happened four years ago. Yet it is still …."

"There is a small sanctuary in our system," said Vir'ajen's mother, "I am, well, I am very proud that my people are doing this."

"I think that's why we have a Federation, ma'am," said Carter, "So we can do the right thing for each other, and have each other's backs." He then looked back at his PADD and jogged it out of sleep mode, where it was scrolling through the date – _October eighteenth, 2262_ – and the time – _thirteen hundred hours_.

=/\=

A transport attendant came over, a few days later. "We have arrived at the Takret home world. You can get a shuttle from there," she said to Saddik.

"Our thanks to you," he replied.

The three of them disembarked and Carter opened his Communicator. "Carter to Rechaan."

"Go ahead."

"We're at the coordinates."

"A few minutes. Rechaan out."

A few Takret stared at them, but they were a lot more subtle than Vir'ajen had been, a sophistication that came with age. Their glances were a lot quicker. Eriecho could hear them whisper and she heard words like _Vulcan_ and _tragedy_ and _bodyguard_.

A small ship arrived; it was spherical in design and a brick red in color. The hatch opened. "Mister Carter?" came a male voice from inside.

"Yeah. Thanks for doing this, Rechaan."

"I am glad to do it." Rechaan came out. He was a Suliban and was probably about Saddik's age.

"Are you a relation to H'Shema?" Eriecho asked the minute she saw him, referring to the Suliban woman who had raised her in the prison.

"We aren't all relatives," he replied, smiling, "but come in, and I will take you to the helix."

=/\=

After perhaps an hour of flying, Eriecho asked, "What is a helix?"

"It is a conglomeration of our ships," Rechaan replied, "And it is not just ships like this one, but others, both large and small. It is a military installation, but it is where some of H'Shema's closest relations live. There are civilian settlements as well."

"Perhaps we will see one of those next time," Saddik said, "Do you know this man who is to meet us?"

"Enkir? I do not," Rechaan said, "but he is a mid-level officer and apparently good at his job. I am sorry, I know nothing else."

"It is still more than we knew before," Saddik said, and the remainder of the flight was passed quietly.

The little ship docked with the main helix, which was huge and shaped vaguely like a deep space station, a bit larger on top than on the bottom. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of ships, were attached at all sides. Rechaan found a place to dock – to Carter; it was not unlike trying to find a parking space in a crowded shopping mall.

Rechaan opened a channel. "Enkir? We have arrived."

"Very well," was the response. Eriecho could barely contain her excitement. She still had not learned to control her emotions. It was something she had not had to do on Canamar, but she was learning that the Vulcans at the sanctuary expected it, and her shows of feeling often made them – in their words – _unsettled_.

The hatch was opened, and a Suliban man stood on the other side of it. "Are you Enkir?" Saddik asked.

"I am."

Eriecho couldn't help herself, and just rushed at him and hugged him. This knocked the wind out of him a bit as he was taken aback.

"Eriecho!" Saddik called out, "That is not appropriate."

"It is all right," Enkir said, smiling a little, "I guess my sister did all right for you."

"She did," Eriecho said, and she cried a little. "H'Shema was, oh, anyone would say she was my mother. So you must be my uncle."

"Then you should meet your grandmother as well, for she heard I was to meet with you, and insisted on visiting. Come along, I will take you to my quarters. My mother is old, and she could not walk as far as this docking port without straining herself. An embrace might be ill-advised if she is not ready for it."

"This is a good surprise," Eriecho said to Saddik as they walked along. Carter followed, ever on the alert, with Rechaan.

"Thanks again for doing this," Carter said to Rechaan.

"It is nothing. All I did was pilot."

"Our people haven't always been pals," Carter said, "We owe you for this."

"We all know what happened to Vulcan," Rechaan said, "I would like to believe that your people would not try to decimate our populace down to nothing if we were in similar straits. In a way, we have been in a similar situation. Our home world is gone as well. But it was enough years ago and there are enough of us that it is not an identical experience. Still, we understand, perhaps better than other species do."

"I like to think we wouldn't kick you when you were down," Carter said.

=/\=

"Ah, here we are," Enkir said, "It is not much; I am not high-ranking."

"Our prison sleeping quarters were far smaller, I am sure," Saddik said as Enkir hit the door chime.

"A moment!" came an elderly woman's voice from inside. Several minutes passed before she opened up. She was wearing a dramatic cape and leaning heavily on a cane.

"May we enter, foremother?" Eriecho asked.

The old woman smiled a little, "I don't suppose I was expecting you to be quite so tall. Please, come in. We will sit down, and you will tell me of the last thirty or so years of the life of my daughter, H'Shema."

"This is my mother," Enkir said, "Her name is L'Cultura." Saddik bowed a little; L'Cultura was older than even he, and she seemed very frail. Eriecho gently touched the old woman's hand in greeting, also afraid that L'Cultura would shatter upon impact.

They sat down. "Eriecho," Saddik began, "was born on the prison transport to Canamar."

"At least you had your father to care for you," L'Cultura said.

"I am not her father, not biologically speaking," Saddik said, "I was a coworker of her parents, T'Kef and Sterrik. We were at Keto-Enol and trading with the Enolians as a prelude to a survey run. That is what we did; surveying and stellar cartography. The Enolian authorities picked us up, on trumped up charges. T'Kef was very heavy with child, and went into labor while on the transport."

"Go on," Enkir said, "if it is not too difficult to say."

"My, my father, the one who helped to make me," Eriecho said, "He was killed when he tried to help my mother. The, the one who made me, that is." She looked down.

"I see," L'Cultura said, "so you were an orphan from the beginning. I know that your kind holds back on emotions but perhaps it was difficult to learn such disciplines in such a setting. Saddik, you must have been overwhelmed."

"I was," he admitted, "but H'Shema, she was, she did everything, often going without food and other things so that Eriecho could be fed or shod or warmed. Without her, I know that Eriecho would not have survived. I imagine I would not have survived, either. I don't know how we shall ever repay her kindness."

L'Cultura smiled and then sighed a little. "It is, you see, when you have children, you wish for many things for them, wonderful things. But it does not always happen as you wish, you know. H'Shema was a difficult child, disobedient a lot of the time. She, well, there are no good ways to say this, but she became addicted to a substance, a kind of synthetic alcohol. It caused her to, after a while, she took to thievery in order to support her habit. She managed to eventually get past the addiction, but thievery was all she knew. It is most difficult to not be able to trust one's own child. And so, when she went to Keto-Enol for a holiday, she could not help herself."

"So she was there for cause?" Eriecho asked, "I did not know this. It seemed as if the only ones at Canamar were innocents."

"That is what they wanted you to believe," Saddik said, "Many criminals will claim innocence, of course. H'Shema did tell me that she was guilty, but never what she was actually guilty of. I never thought it was anything of a violent nature. She did not seem to be that type of a person."

"No, she was not violent," Enkir said, "that much is to her credit."

"We learned of her incarceration about six years after it had begun," L'Cultura said, "a small bit of news from a supply vessel. I suspect that was before Eriecho here was born. But then, nothing, we heard nothing until you contacted us a few months ago."

"At the prison, it was difficult to get Communications in both directions," Saddik said, "I regret that you could not be informed of her death earlier."

"It is all right," L'Cultura said, "for with the bitterness, there is now some sweetness. Tell me, child, of your life these days," she said to Eriecho.

"Well, foremother, I am to become a mother."

"Oh! May I?" L'Cultura asked, shaky hand hovering over Eriecho's abdomen.

"No, I am not pregnant," Eriecho said, "But I will have five or maybe it's six next year."

"Human surrogate mothers," Saddik explained, "it is in an effort to rebuild our species."

L'Cultura laughed a little, "There are more pleasant ways to become a mother," she whispered to Eriecho conspiratorially. Eriecho smiled at that, so L'Cultura continued, "Have you a paramour?"

"No one as of, as of yet, foremother. Our own people, many of them do not accept me. I spend much of my time with his kind, playing sports and talking," she indicated Carter, who was absently playing with his PADD.

"Our people are not always so accepting," Saddik admitted, "Even though they know that we are both innocents. I suppose they are skeptical. If I had not been through the prison experience, I imagine I would have been skeptical as well. Still, it is difficult when your own people look upon you with, well, they would never so much as admit it, but it is certainly a form of disdain. I do want Eriecho to have someone. Her life is ahead of her; she should not be lonely and without a mate."

"You are a fine female, despite all the hair," L'Cultura said, touching her own bald scalp, "and you will not stay alone forever. I am sure your biological mother was admired by many."

"I don't know anything about her. I know more about H'Shema. H'Shema was, well, _she_ was my mother."

There was a pause, and the old woman took out a small handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. "H'Shema had, she had many flaws. But we all do, I suppose. I never imagined she would ever become a _kemijira_."

"What is a _kemijira_?" Eriecho asked.

"She did not tell you?" Enkir asked, "In our language, it means _mother_. You do know that, in our tongue, the word _eriecho_ means _daughter_ , yes?" Saddik and Eriecho nodded.

"But you are not just an _eriecho_ , you are also a _ta-eriecho_ ," L'Cultura said. Eriecho looked at her, uncomprehending, so L'Cultura explained, "It literally means _double daughter_ , for you are the _daughter of a daughter_ , to, to me."

"Is the word _ta-kemijira_?" Eriecho asked, "Is that a _mother to a mother_? Should I call you that?"

"Or _foremother_ , as you have been saying," L'Cultura said, "for your culture is just as important, you know. I never thought that I would have a ta-eriecho. It did not seem possible."

"I think you have one now," Eriecho said, carefully taking the old woman's hand in hers.

"Oh! I have something," L'Cultura said, and took a necklace off and gave it to Eriecho, her hand shaking as she extended it.

img id="L'Cultura's necklace" src=" . " title= "L'Cultura's necklace" alt=" L'Cultura's necklace"/img

Eriecho stared at it, "I cannot accept such a thing."

"It is not much. These are common stones. There is a bit of green, I see you are wearing green. H'Shema liked green for a color," said L'Cultura.

"Yes, I remember, we have a bit of cloth that was hers," Eriecho said, "There is nothing else." She sniffed a little.

L'Cultura said, "I can see, a bit, why your kind would like to suppress emotions. The hard ones can be very hard indeed. I, I mourned my own eriecho many years ago, a girl lost to addiction and then to imprisonment. But as I said, the bitter comes with the sweet. And we can celebrate today, my ta-eriecho." She put her hand on Eriecho's shoulder and the two women hugged, and Eriecho was as gentle as she could be, as if L'Cultura were made of glass.

=/\=

They walked back to the docking port a few hours later. Enkir said to Saddik, "I am glad you have come."

"Me?" Saddik asked, "As I said before, I fear we owe you very much, for H'Shema's many kindnesses and sacrifices. No one wants to suddenly have poor relations."

Enkir smiled, "It is the other way around. For you must understand my mother is ill and in pain most of the time. I have seen her hoarding her medications, possibly getting together enough in order to, to commit suicide. I have not seen her smile in months. Yet today she smiled many times. This was a very good day for her."

They walked on, in some silence.

"You call your ship a helix," Saddik said, nodding and looking around a bit as he broke the silence, "and it looks a lot like one."

"Reminds me a bit of the double helix, of DNA," Carter said.

"That is the intention," said Enkir.

"And we are not the same DNA," Eriecho said, "yet we are still a family, yes, Uncle?" She touched her new necklace proudly and smiled. Emotional suppression be damned. Saddik smiled, too.


	4. 4-The Mundane World

**The Mundane World**

The young Vulcan woman hustled herself into appropriate garb for her planned endeavor – old blue jeans, equally ratty sneakers, a stained _Mars Culinary Institute_ hoodie sweatshirt that some forgotten person had donated. And then, at the last minute, she remembered to tie pads around the fronts of both knees. She took a basket and a bag and tiptoed out, making certain not to wake her adoptive father.

The outside air was nippy as two small moons began to sink out of sight and give way to a sun that was smaller than and not as bright as seen from Earth. But that was to be expected, as she was on Mars.

It was a short walk to a community garden. She nodded at her neighbors, as some of them were also stirring at the ungodly hour of 0413 AM Martian time. But only a few of them nodded back. Most of them, curt, ignored her as she made her way to her destination.

The patch was small, but it belonged to them. There was a small sign at its perimeter – _H'Shema's Garden_. H'Shema had been her adoptive mother, a Suliban.

One of the owners of an adjoining plot approached her. Quietly, so that others could not hear, he said, to her, "Good morning, Eriecho."

Equally softly, she responded, "Good morning, Sollastek."

There was no more conversation, for that would have made everyone else aware that the youth Sollastek dared to, in some small way, accept the ex-con Vulcans, Eriecho and her adoptive father, Saddik.

Eriecho set down her basket and bag and got on her knees. She began to work. Into the basket went anything edible. There were peas and yellow peppers. The cucumbers were not quite ready yet. Into the bag went the weeds.

Methodically, she harvested and cleared row after row. The sun was already high overhead by the time her labors brought her to where Sollastek's patch met hers.

Digging in the dirt, and pulling up weeds or clipping the harvest off with a small pair of shears, she jumped a little when she felt a hand on hers. She followed the hand to its owner – Sollastek. He looked at her. "I think you are weeding my patch."

"Oh, it is my error," she said. "I have trespassed." She hunted in her basket for something nice. She handed him a large yellow pepper. "This is the fine I need to pay you for my trespassing."

He had carrots and eggplants in his own basket. He found her a good specimen of each and placed them into her basket. "You do not owe me," she said.

"This is, it is a small payment for you permitting me to touch your hand," he whispered.

"My hands are dirty," she whispered back.

"Will you take the communal evening meal with me?"

He was how much younger than her? Ten years? Fifteen? "Saddik and I will dine with you for the communal meal," she said, "if you are all right with being seen with us."

Sollastek stood up in the dim Martian sunlight and noticed their neighbors around, Vulcans who had survived the destruction of their home world and were forced to live on the charity and good graces of humans. Some of the Vulcans were whispering about the ex-cons. Saddik had been up for a while. He walked over. "Have you finished your gardening?" he asked Eriecho.

"I have," she replied. She, too, got up. She looked at Sollastek, realizing that it had to have been difficult and a kind of conflict for him, wanting to be accepted by their community but wanting to socialize with her and Saddik. There were so few Vulcans left after Nero's heinous, genocidal crime. And being shunned was hard. She and Saddik knew that much first-hand.

Sollastek looked them squarely in the eye. He said, loudly enough for the neighbors to hear, "Eriecho keeps such a good garden. May I dine with you tonight, so that I may learn your secrets?"

Saddik looked at Eriecho, figuring it was her decision to make. "Yes," she said, "I will tell you my secrets."


	5. 5-Recessive

Connections of genetics and memory bring a silver lining to a horrible tragedy.

Chapter 1 – A First

Her blonde hair was long, and she kept arranging and rearranging it, over and over again.

"Eriecho!" Saddik called. "It is time for the evening meal! The siren has already rung out once." It was a siren that called them to the evening meal at the sanctuary. There could have, perhaps, been a more pleasant way of getting across that same message, but the siren loudly and efficiently pierced the Martian air. And so, even if one was practically on the other side of the planet – or at least the compound – or deep in meditation, it was possible to hear that the communal meal was ready.

He repeated himself. "Eriecho, you have arranged your hair in many different styles. I am concerned that we will be late for the evening meal, for I have heard the siren already."

"I understand. And I have heard that self-same siren. It will be all right. Just, just a moment." She was wearing a white shirt with a bit of an abstract design. Tiny earrings adorned her pointed ears. The tiniest bit of pinkish-tinged lip balm was on her mouth. But then there was the matter of what to do with her hair. She was about ready to call it quits when she tried one more method. There was a green ribbon she had replicated, intending to possibly make it into something. This time, she pulled most of her hair back, except for a few front wisps, and tied it all in the back, making a small bow. "There!" They made their way to the evening meal.

There were the benches, as always; and there was a setting for everyone in the sanctuary. Eriecho glanced around, her eyes finally lighting upon Sollastek. He was wearing a newly-replicated tunic and pants. Unlike most of the other men there, he was growing his hair out a bit, but his ears were still visible. He gestured subtly, for the two of them to come over and sit with him.

Colonel Jack Shaw, the sanctuary's administrator, stood at the front of the room. "I'm glad to see everyone," the human began. "I have some reports from our many eager volunteers. There were sixteen births today! I'm sure you'll join me in your thanks to these many surrogate mothers, who are giving of their time, and their attention, and their bodies, to assist in restoring your species to its pre-Nero numbers. They are building _your_ future." He paused, as if expecting applause.

"I saw that the community gardens are doing particularly well. Today's meal comes mainly from the sanctuary's own patch. Instead of a plomeek broth, we will have a mild tortilla soup. Then there will be vegetarian tamales with guacamole, plus black beans and rice on the side. I hope you enjoy a little taste of Mexico. I've asked the staff to put bottles of hot sauce on all of the tables. I won't be offended if you don't take any. Me, I love the stuff. Enjoy."

There was a moment of silence as they remembered the billions lost to Nero's madness. Then the soup course was brought out. As Shaw had predicted, no one so much as touched the bottles of hot sauce. No one, that is, but Eriecho. She squirted a tiny bit onto her spoon and tried it, and then added perhaps a half a teaspoon to her soup.

Scandalous.

As they sat and ate, and Vulcan matrons none too subtly clucked and scolded and looked down their noses at Saddik and Eriecho and Sollastek, the courses appeared. The human wait staff carefully explained that the _masas_ – hollow leaf husks – were only for cooking and presentation, and not for eating.

Eriecho carefully tasted her meal. There was something called _polenta_ in the tamale, but it was bland. Again, she added a dab of the hot sauce, and was secretly pleased when her sensitive ears picked up those same matrons and their carefully controlled semi-horror at her continued addition of something so, so _human_ as that species of flavor.

"I will tell you," Eriecho stated abruptly, as there had so far been no other conversation, "of how I keep my garden."

"Oh?" inquired Sollastek. "I have determined that your produce is larger than the median. The haul must be rather bountiful indeed."

"It is," she replied, "for I utilize a growth solution. Private Theo Carter of the MACO unit assigned here, he showed me. He explained that the sunlight is dimmer here than on the Earth. And so the plants that have been transplanted to Mars have been bred and hybridized for the specific purpose of surviving under such circumstances. But they still require some chemical assistance."

"I see," responded Sollastek. He looked both ways before touching the bottle of hot sauce. "Is it very spicy?"

"It is not too bad," Eriecho stated, "Make certain to only take a small amount." He did as she had advised and discreetly gulped it, and then drank his entire tumbler of water. "Perhaps that was too much to start. I am sure it takes a little getting used to."

"Indeed," interjected one of the matrons.

"It would probably be of help," Eriecho opined, loudly enough for the matrons to hear, "if such experimentations were not attempted in front of a critical audience."

The matron who had spoken up turned back to her companions and shook her head subtly, her white hair moving ever so slightly.

"I am certain you are correct," Saddik said, looking over his shoulder a little. He looked around, his eyes scanning until he could locate a few of the women he had been looking at since their arrival. His eyes alit upon the shortest of them, a woman of Vulcan youth who had larger doe eyes and sloping shoulders. She had recently come, and was even newer than they were. He held her gaze very briefly, before she looked away.

"And _that_ one," the matrons' voices were louder again, and they were speaking with reference to that woman, "I hear there are _Pon Farr comforters_ here. The very idea is … _unsettling_ ," the others at her table murmured their assents.

"A transfer from the sanctuary on Andoria, I am led to believe," added another matron, "much like … _those_." There was a nod in the general direction of Eriecho, Saddik and Sollastek. "Common laborers, convicts and Pon Farr comforters – it seems this particular sanctuary is a repository for the very dregs of Vulcan society. It makes me wonder at Colonel Shaw's plans, or his understanding. The level does not appear to be too advanced, I believe."

" _Human_ foods," bellyached another, pushing at her plate with her fork, "as if the sanctuary were on Earth itself. The Colonel does not seem to comprehend the digestive tracts of proper Vulcans. He does not appear to be able to visualize us as anything other than _humans_ ," the change in her pitch was slight, but telling, "with dissimilar ears. There seems to be little point to attending these evening meals, if they are going to replicate what it is like on," again, her pitch changed a tad, " _Earth_."

"Have you ever traveled to Earth?" Saddik inquired of Sollastek.

"I have not as of yet," the younger man stated, "but I believe it would be of interest. Despite others'," his eyes shifted for a second in the direction of the area where the old biddies all sat together, "opinions to the contrary, I feel that an enormous amount of care and concern has been placed into these sanctuaries. Even if the execution is imperfect, I still think it would be polite, and most educational, to visit their home planet on at least one occasion. But I would not know the best place to see."

"I have heard there are places with gardens," Eriecho informed them. "One is in a city called _London_ , and another is in a place that Theo Carter is from. It is called _Delaware_. And there is a place known as the _Big Canyon_. I understand it is very red and purple with mesas, not unlike the parts of Mars that are not yet cultivated."

"A place with a garden would be of great interest," Saddik agreed, "And there are oceans of course. I should like to visit one that is designated as the _Pacific_. I have been told that many parts of it are a bit cold, though." He went back to eating.

"Does Theo Carter converse with you a great deal?" Sollastek asked.

"Not too often," Eriecho explained.

"Is his company agreeable to you?"

Even the old biddies seemed fascinated by Eriecho's anticipated response. Very quietly, she stated, "Not even half as much as your own."

They passed the remainder of the meal in silence although, just before the flan was brought out – which even Eriecho did not venture to try – Sollastek stated, extremely quietly, "Your hair is arranged most becomingly this evening."

Chapter 2 – A Fourth

Things proceeded in this fashion for a few months. Eriecho and Sollastek would see each other at their adjoining garden patches, and would weed or harvest, mostly in silence and without touching.

They would sit together at their evening meals, usually with Saddik. When Saddik was the one getting the three seats together, he inevitably tried to be as close as possible to the woman who the matrons had disdained as a mere Pon Farr comforter. As for the matrons, when they showed up for the evening meal at all, they would continue their none too subtle disapproving ways, and would often make cutting comments, secure in the knowledge that they would be overheard, and that their pre-formed opinions were the only ones that were at all logical.

It continued past a Thanksgiving gathering, and even an imported Earth holiday that Shaw and Carter and the other attendant humans had explained was called _Christmas_. Then there had been New Year's, even though it was only the year change on Earth, and even then it was only in accordance with the old style calendar. On Mars, the year was 687 days to Earth's 365. Since it was not quite twice an Earth year, 21 days were lopped off the middle of every Martian year, with one extra subtracted day every other year. This more or less was the correct adjustment needed so as to support illusions that the two planets were in perfect synchronization and the Martian year was simply double that of Earth.

Sollastek could count the times on one hand that he and Eriecho had so much as touched hands. There had been that time in the garden in October, and then at Thanksgiving, and at Christmas, and again at New Year's. Every time, his touch telepathy had been engaged, and he could feel a maelstrom of emotions coming from her, much like heat waves. Neither of them initiated any additional contact, but they weeded together, and they harvested together, and they sat together, and so he was fairly well content, for she did not spend as much time with anyone else, not even Saddik or Carter.

It was March of 2263, the seventeenth to be precise, and they sat together at the evening meal, as always. This time, Saddik had saved their seats, and he had secured for himself the plum position of being right next to the object of his attentions.

After the moment of silence, the woman explained, "I am Valeris."

"It is agreeable to know you," Saddik explained. "I am Saddik, and this is my daughter, Eriecho. And this is Sollastek."

"I know," Valeris stated, "but it is agreeable all the same to be properly introduced. So many do not deign to speak with me, due to my earlier profession, when our planet yet existed."

"Few speak with us as well," Eriecho commiserated. She gave the matrons a sidelong glance. "I suppose they fear that our stints in Canamar Prison will somehow reflect poorly on them if they were to so much as wish us a _good morning_ on occasion. Sollastek here is very brave indeed to be associated with us, and risking his good name."

"My name," Sollastek stated, "it is far from a good one, for I was not destined for a life in science or diplomacy, but rather for a life of industry. It should not matter now, yet I suppose it somehow does, at least, it does to some. Perhaps it does even more, as our number here is so small. There seems to be an increase in reactionary behavior." He, too, briefly favored the matrons with a quick glance.

"I do not know," Valeris said, "but as of now, my existence and my profession are perhaps even more logical than before. I provide a necessary service to the unattached of the male and heterosexual persuasion, or to the female and lesbian preference." She looked Saddik up and down. "Is that service the nature of your interest?"

Saddik cleared his throat a bit. "I, it was so originally, I confess. But you are very comely to look at, and I am learning now that your frankness of speech is most agreeable to my old ears." He, too, glanced at the matrons. "It is far preferable to backbiting and sniping. It is most logical for our community to pull together as a whole, yes?"

"That is true," Valeris concurred. "Kindness and understanding are most reasonable. The Colonel has been the instrument of the humans' generosity. Yet there are those who are so very unappreciative and overly critical of some small errors and even some attempts to introduce us to rather tiny aspects of their culture, as a means of fostering better understanding between our two species. I have manners enough to thank him and his fellows. And I wonder, at times, at the manners of those who would disdain him and his fellows' efforts."

The old biddies all looked at each other. "Being lectured at by such persons is so very distasteful," one of them complained.

"Yes," agreed another, "it is as if Nero's behaviors turned our society upon its own head. I am certain it is the influence of the humans, and their more flat society, when it comes to class. Why, at that Thanksgiving meal, when we were introduced to many of the human surrogate mothers, it did not escape my notice that many of even Ambassador Sarek's own children are being carried by human women who appear to be of little breeding. It is most fortunate that they provide no genetic contribution."

"Do you fear," Eriecho asked them all rather loudly, "that the Vulcan genetic contribution would prove to be _recessive_?"

The matrons were quiet for a while, as they thought over their response. "There is no reason," one of them stated to the others, "to deign to answer such inquiries or favor such persons with responses. _Recessive_! As if that were at all possible! Our genetic material would never be _inferior_. Not even if it came from a day laborer, or a Pon Farr comforter, or even from former convicts." They returned to their salads, satisfied that their points had been adequately made.

"They mean to insult us all, and to snipe and to carp every day, I suspect," Valeris stated. "You are most correct, Saddik, that we should pull together as a community. Yet aside from our human hosts, you are the only ones here on Mars who have spoken with me in a manner that is neither insulting nor is it condescending. At the Andorian sanctuary, they were all so very self-righteous, when they bothered to engage me in conversation at all. And this was even when they sought out my services. I had, it was my intention and my wish that there would be an improvement here."

"It would be most logical," Sollastek offered, "for you to join us at our evening meals, from this day forward. I do not believe any of us shall ever treat you in such a manner."

"That is most agreeable to my ears," Valeris replied.

"Then it is settled," Saddik declared. "I have many agreeable friends," he stated loudly. Then, more quietly, he asked, "Valeris, I am not accustomed to strolling after the evening meal. But I think it would be a means of assisting our digestion of these unfamiliar human foods. Would you deign to join me?"

"I will join you. Can you identify the stars?"

"Very few, I must admit. But I could study them tomorrow, and provide you with more information tomorrow evening as well, if you so wished."

"Even a limited education," she decided, "would be superior to my own, for I have not yet learned much in this area. Perhaps you could indicate to me which of Mars's moons is Phobos, and which is Deimos, for they often confuse me and I am unable to keep them straight."

"We could conjure up a memory device," Saddik suggested, "and create it together, even if it was a poem or some such."

"That would be most agreeable," she said.

Eriecho turned to Sollastek. "There is a human film, Theo Carter gave me a copy for my PADD and I have it transferred to the small viewer in our meditation room. It is from the holiday called Christmas, and it is a story of an alternate reality. It is titled _It's a Wonderful Life_. Perhaps we could view it this evening."

"Would that be in your home?" he asked. She nodded. "That would be most agreeable."

The old biddies were quietly and more or less emotionlessly scandalized.

Chapter 3 – Wonderful and Rare Characteristics

In her and Saddik's home, which was little more than a Quonset hut; Eriecho set about fluffing up the pillows on a small sofa. Sollastek queued up the film on the viewer.

"May we speak a little beforehand?" she asked, sitting down.

"Certainly." He stopped what he was doing and sat down beside her.

"I know we have not touched very often." Eriecho stated. "Touch telepathy is so very strange at times."

"True. I do not believe the humans quite comprehend it, although they do try, to their credit."

"It can bring on strange knowledge at times."

"How so?"

"In Canamar," she explained, "with some species it was more … unsettling … than with others."

Sollastek was silent for a moment. "Was there much physical contact there?"

Eriecho nodded. "I, I am not a virgin."

He bit his lower lip a little. "I believe that I can understand that. There, it was violence done to your person?"

Eriecho nodded. "When my mother, H'Shema, died, I lost much of my protection. I carried a metal shank wherever I went." She retrieved the object from a closet. "This is it."

He touched it briefly. "I see."

She put it down and sat down again. "But it did not protect me from all that could happen to me."

He put a hand out, intending to touch her cheek and forehead. "I could, we could attempt a mind meld. Then I would know, and you would not need to say."

"No, Sollastek. Please, do not. I must speak it. I must vocalize it."

"Then please do. And I will listen." He folded his hands and listened, expectantly.

There was a pause. "Very well," she stated. "There were many of them, yes. They were of several different species. It was most difficult until I took up with Griud."

"Oh?"

"Griud is an Imvari." Sollastek's face betrayed some puzzlement, so Eriecho added, "They are a humanoid species but they do not, their, their genitalia, they are not in the place where we are used to." She touched her own knees. "Here, there are two pieces, and they are both located here."

"I see."

"And so he did not bother me as much, for we were fairly well incompatible. He would, in exchange for his protection …."

"Protection?"

"Yes, he was over two meters tall."

"I see. Go on, Eriecho."

"Yes, well, as a trade for his protection of my person, he required that I, well, he would sit upon his cot with his legs flat. He would bade me to sit upon his knees."

"I think I understand."

"It was not for very long. He was not kind to me. But he was still somewhat safer."

"I understand."

"I tell you this, Sollastek, because I want you to know of my flaws, and of my history."

"May I speak to you off my own?"

"Naturally," she replied.

"As Vulcan fell, I was out of doors. I was not at studies. They seemed pointless, for I have never felt that I am too terribly bright. Yet that allowed me to flee. I saw the destruction. I could not turn back and save my classmates, or my parents or my brother. I should have gone back for them."

"You could not, I am certain," Eriecho stated, "I am sure of it. And, and you would not be able to be here, if you had. And that would be most unfortunate and tragic."

They sat in silence for a little while. "May I," he asked, "May I show you something?"

"Yes."

He put his right index and middle fingers together, side by side. "Now, if you will do the same, please?"

When she had done so, he pressed the tips of his fingers to hers. As before, he felt the avalanche of her emotions and memories.

Marching feet … tramping feet … metal locks engaging … incoherent shouting … the glow of an Imvari's bare knees as colors changed in climax … nakedness and partial nakedness of many different species, some unrecognizable … a metal cup thrust into hands … a slap across a jaw … a bowl slapped onto a rough-hewn table … an elderly Suliban woman's body being taken away …

And then the storm in her mind changed.

Mars in its pristine red beauty … yellow peppers … Theo Carter … Thanksgiving … Jack Shaw … Saddik … Quonset huts … evening meals … Phobos and Deimos … Valeris … and then his own face looking back at him.

Eriecho broke the contact first. "And now may I show you something?"

"Yes."

"This, the humans do this in the film."

"Oh."

Eriecho very, very carefully placed her mouth onto Sollastek's. Holding it there for several seconds, she felt his emotions and saw his memories.

His school … his family … his planet … a ship … a chance … a planet quake … families torn asunder … a cliff collapsing … a human woman falling … a ship bearing so few, too few of them away … a transit camp … another ship … Mars … building the sanctuary … pulling and hammering and lifting and sawing as the Quonset huts came together.

Taking a breath, they looked at each other for a moment, and then pressed their mouths together again.

Two people arriving, her and Saddik … a discussion … an exchange of words with Theo Carter and Jack Shaw and a garden plot was exchanged for another that was adjacent and therefore far more desirable … a glimpse of her own self … another look … a time spent tending his own garden … and hers, too, and not telling her he was doing so … meals … looks … and then a brief hand touch in the dirt.

They changed positions again. One more kiss. One more finger clasp. And this time, they saw the same things, their shared memories.

Meals together … sniping matrons … Saddik looking around … Valeris glancing back … Jack Shaw speaking … trying new foods … moments of silence … ever gardening … Thanksgiving … meeting surrogate mothers … Christmas and lights … New Year's and the oddness of firecrackers … hot sauce … sitting together … conversations … ripening vegetables … Valeris sitting with them … going to Eriecho and Saddik's home … finger clasps and kisses.

They finally broke apart. "We should," Sollastek declared, "we should wed."

"Yes," Eriecho agreed, "for we love one another. I have seen what you have done for me." She smiled at him. He did not return the expression with his mouth but with his eyes.

"And I have seen what you have done for me. What we have both done, for we have accepted without judgments." He paused. "We will have your father, and Valeris, and Colonel Shaw and his friend, Julie Parker, at our wedding."

"Yes, all of them," she confirmed.

"And the surrogate mothers who are having our children; and our children if any are born by then."

"Yes."

"It would be most agreeable," Sollastek stated, "if they were to appear as you do, Eriecho."

"I am blonde," she pointed out, "I am a mass of recessive traits and rare characteristics."

"All the more reason it would be best if they had your appearance," he pressed. "Your rare characteristics and your recessive traits, they are your beauty, and they should be preserved."

"And you, yours should also be preserved," Eriecho stated, "You are my love and my bondmate, and all I wish for, for the remainder of our days, is for our memories to become the self-same."

"So we must always be together. The word, it is _t'hy'la_. That is the word for the one who suits a person the best, and shares their thoughts and their memories and their dreams. The one who accepts without passing judgment."

"Yes," Eriecho confirmed. "You are my _t'hy'la_." Her mouth stumbled a little bit on the unfamiliar word. "Sollastek, I know, you are the one. And we will be together always. If Nero has brought any good to our people, it is this. I know that this is so."


	6. 6-A Gathering

_You are happily invited …_

"No. Erase that."

 _You are merrily invited …_

"That's worse. Get rid of that."

 _You are cordially invited …_

"Maybe save that one. Sheesh," Jack Shaw sighed. "It _should_ read – if I _really_ wanted to be honest about things – _you are lustily invited_. Well, not just that." He paused and then took a few minutes to look over what he'd need.

"Computer," he said, "calculate the cost of a turkey dinner for four thousand people." The figure showed up on his screen. "Add in the cost of three squares for five thousand people for one week. Now add a vegan dinner for one thousand people. After all, it's not just my six hundred who are vegans. Not everybody eats turkey."

More figures populated his screen. "Now change, uh, fifteen percent of the turkey dinners to kosher or halal. Add, uh, tents for forty-four hundred guests. Add sundry items for the guests, things like soap and towels, dish washing, that sort of thing. Now add round-trip transports as follows – five hundred from Ganymede, twenty-three hundred from Earth, six hundred from Lafa II and the remaining eleven hundred from various other spots around the Solar System. Oh, and add one private shuttle for one Miss Julie Parker, under my own account."

His PADD screen flashed an inquiry – _Specify the point of origin for the private shuttle. Otherwise, costs cannot be accurately determined._

"Andoria."

The computer spat out the figures. "Damn, we're over budget. Uh, what's the difference in cost if the turkeys are replaced with elekai from Lafa II and prako from Archer's Planet?" The computer recalculated. "Good, we're in budget. I hope y'all like to eat big terrifying birds and giant squid that can walk. Uh, add in the following under my own account – one small turkey to feed two, one bottle of good French Champagne and a pair of, uh, candles with candlesticks."

The machine posed two more queries – _Which brand of Champagne? Which candlesticks_?

"Just a second. Damn, I hope the Vulcans appreciate, well, any of this. Huh, computer, list all French vineyards, all good vintages for Champagne going back to, um, 2250." A dozen years back seemed reasonable. It would show he was mindful and knowledgeable but, hopefully, not desperate.

The list was a long one. It hadn't finished compiling when he called out, " _No! No! Stop_! Uh, maybe I'll go with a label a, a vineyard with a _history_. Give me a subset of the first request, but make sure the vineyard is at least a good two hundred years old."

That list was considerably shorter. He skimmed it. " _Picard_ , no, _aha_! That's it! _Grand Siècle_. Add one magnum of _Grand Siècle_ Champagne, under my own account."

An earlier inquiry returned to the screen – _Which candlesticks_?

"Something plain. Can I get pewter?"

=/\=

Over an hour later, he walked outside, to the fading Martian sunshine. It was a settlement – a protected camp, really. And its inmates were all Vulcans.

The mad Romulan, Nero, had destroyed their home world four years previously. And so all surviving Vulcans had been gathered up and placed into a kind of protective custody. Vulcans were located and brought not only to Mars, but to Oberon and Callisto, and Lafa II and Andoria, and to other worlds as well. Allies had wanted to assist each other, and there was quite the sense of urgency, as only a few known Vulcans remained, no more than perhaps twelve thousand.

And so Vulcans were sought out everywhere. They were purchased from the Orion slave market and were even plucked from Canamar, the Enolian prison. That had been Jack Shaw's own idea, and the result was the obtainment of the falsely-accused Saddik, and Eriecho, who had been born on the way to Canamar. Innocent and wrongly detained, those details had not mattered to their neighbors on Mars. They were shunned by most of their peer group.

But there were some who dared to buck convention and speak with them, including Sollastek, who was in charge of the communal garden patch right next to Eriecho's. He had even dared to privately touch her hand, and publicly sit with them at the evening communal meal.

Shaw knew all of their names, but he didn't really know most of the Vulcans. They were a private people at the best of times, and mainly kept to themselves. But he knew Eriecho and Saddik, for they stood out like two rather sore thumbs.

He saw Eriecho, and approached her. "You got anything left in that garden of yours?"

"I do not. It is rather late in the season, Colonel."

"Ah, well," he drawled, "I was hoping to save a buck or two."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, nothing. How's everything going?"

"It is all right."

"You would tell me if things weren't okay, though, right?"

She looked at him. "I suspect my definition of what is acceptable differs greatly from what the others consider to be all right."

"I guess your basis of comparison would be different. See y'all later." He departed, and the other Vulcans in the area stopped eavesdropping and returned to whatever they had been doing.

=/\=

That evening meal, like all of the evening meals in the Martian sanctuary, was a communal affair. Colonel Shaw didn't normally attend, but this time, he was there.

"Attention, everyone!" he called out. "I have an announcement." Six hundred or so pairs of Vulcan eyes looked at him. "All right. There is a holiday. Or, at least, there _was_ one. But it was dropped during the Third World War on Earth. It wasn't religious, although I suspect people prayed or said grace just the same. It was only celebrated in the United States and Canada, and it was called _Thanksgiving_."

He paused to let that bit of information settle in. "It was an occasion, I understand, for families to get together. They would have a turkey dinner, they'd watch some football, and it would be a time for some togetherness." The six hundred or so pairs of Vulcan eyes continued staring, not really comprehending, as if he were giving them all directions on how to breathe molten lead.

"I know that most of y'all lost your families four years ago. And I know y'all don't eat turkey. But there are new family members now. Those women who are acting as surrogate mothers and trying to rebuild your population – they all really want to meet y'all, and show off your offspring. And the third Thursday in November, which is when the American Thanksgiving holiday was celebrated, well, it's coming up soon. So here's what's happening."

Eriecho was perhaps the only Vulcan to smile – at least, she was the only one Shaw knew who would do so. Saddik was a kind of surrogate father to her, but he had not taught her the old disciplines while they had been in Canamar Prison, as those had seemed superfluous. Now that they were out and among Vulcans, he would often try to correct Eriecho and get her to subsume her emotions. But she would often have none of that. She smiled just a little bit, understanding what Shaw was driving at.

"There are a good eighteen hundred surrogate mothers. They've already given birth to some twenty-three hundred Vulcan children. And many of them are pregnant again. They are pregnant with _your_ children. So we're gonna try to revive the old Thanksgiving tradition. They're all invited here, with their husbands if they're married, as are about a thousand various dignitaries, including the remnant of the Vulcan Council. I'm only sorry I couldn't bring over all of the other surviving Vulcans, but it just wasn't in the budget. Not to mention, it would be quite the security risk."

He paused again as some of those six hundred or so pairs of Vulcan eyes glanced around, perhaps with a touch of trepidation. "They'll stay here for a week. I hope y'all will take the opportunity to get to know them. This holiday was originally developed in order to give people a non-religious way to express their gratitude for family, friends and food. I hope we can make a new tradition and thank these generous women and their husbands."

He turned to leave and then added. "Oh, and a member of the press will also be there – _Julie Parker_." His voice changed very, very slightly when he spoke her name aloud. While there were six hundred or so pairs of highly sensitive ears hanging on his every word – and they had all heard the minor inflection – only one pair was attached to a brain that even remotely understood what that inflection meant. Eriecho smiled again, slightly. Whoever this Julie Parker was, she was, somehow, _important_ to Colonel Jack Shaw.

=/\=

It was the seventeenth of November, and Shaw was in his office, as he often was. There was a communications chime, indicating a visual transmission. The moment he saw it was originating on Andoria, his heart skipped a beat. He ran his fingers through his hair – his blond crew cut was going grey and was growing out. "You're as pretty as y'all are ever gonna get," he mumbled to himself. He clicked on the viewer. "Shaw here," he said, smiling. The caller was exactly who he wanted it to be.

"Colonel," said Julie Parker, "I got an invitation from you to, uh, a dinner for surrogate mothers?" There was a little confusion furrowing her dark brow.

"It's good to hear from y'all, Ms. Parker. The, uh, we're gonna revive Thanksgiving and express our gratitude to about eighteen hundred surrogates and their immediate families and the Vulcan Council. I figured that y'all, a member of the press, would be interested." He silently cursed himself – his nerves were making his Titania drawl more pronounced than usual, and he feared he sounded like a yahoo to her.

"I see," she replied. "A private shuttle?"

"You're the only one coming in from Andoria."

"Ah. And the sanctuary program doesn't mind?" she inquired.

"Ah did a little juggling. Don't, uh, don't worry 'bout it." He didn't tell her that the shuttle, the Champagne, the candles and candlesticks and the private dinner were all coming out of his own pocket.

"Well …."

"I would like very much," Shaw swallowed, "for you to be my personal guest."

"Oh?" An eyebrow was raised a little and the brown eyes were twinkling.

" _Yes_."

Julie smiled a little. "Thursday's an odd day. And it might go late, I'm figuring. Would there be a place where I could stay over until Friday?"

"Sure. There's the Ironville Hotel." _Or my place_ , Jack thought to himself.

"I said, _Colonel, I'll be there_."

"Terrific. See y'all then. Shaw out." _Whew_.

=/\=

The appointed day arrived. The eighteen hundred women and their twenty-three hundred or so children and assorted immediate family members had come in a few days previously. Some of them had tried to speak with the Vulcans, but the whole thing was the very definition of awkwardness. Shaw had done his best not to interfere. It was private, he had figured, not to mention, it was all rather complicated.

But a few days had elapsed and there had been so few meetings and all of the overtures had been on the part of the human women. He felt he needed to step in. He spoke in the communal dining area at breakfast, where the women were gathered as the Vulcans did not eat a communal morning meal. "Good morning," he called out over the din of their speech. They quieted themselves. "I know how it's been goin'. And I won't pretend that the whole thing isn't strange. So please check your PADDs. I've had data passed to y'all. You should have an image, now, of either or both parents – whoever is on Mars. And they have been provided with similar information. Hopefully, that can begin to bring some of y'all together."

He paused, as a child was crying. The infant – a human – was carried out by his or her father. Shaw continued. "I don't have to tell y'all that this is all very complicated. If you've had one child, and are taking advantage of our repeater program and are having another, the chances are very good that the second child won't have either parent in common with the first. And imagine how they all feel. For all but the menopausal women, there are completely unknown descendants. And even the menopausal women have played a role, as some of their DNA has been used to repair some errant strands. For them, there aren't really descendants, _per se_ , but there is still a connection. Now, I know this is hard. But I think it's almost as important as the children y'all have been selflessly carrying. And yet again, I thank you for your sacrifices."

=/\=

Later that day, three women, a man, and one tiny Vulcan infant sat outside together. "I guess we had to expect they'd be a little weirded out by it all," opined one woman, the eldest of the three.

"It seems a little like, you know those stories of when the Vulcans first worked with us humans, a good one hundred and fifty years ago?" asked one, who was Asian.

"It was more than that, Takara," stated her husband, who was holding the infant. "Wasn't First Contact in the 2060s?"

"Be that as it may," Takara said, "but as I was saying, that earlier generation, they were all remote. Didn't Admiral Archer claim then that they'd been keeping humans down?"

"I'm sure I dunno," said the third one, who seemed to be the youngest of the three women. "All I know is; this is damned fine paycheck."

"I guess you could look at it that way," Takara allowed. "And I guess Bruce and I get to play at being parents a bit." He gave her a look, so she added, "Hell, I guess we _are_ parents. I mean, this guy Sollastek, I wonder if he'd have a clue as to what to do." The baby fussed a little, so Bruce gave him to her. "Aw, Selek, did you miss me, Sweetie?" The baby calmed down, nearly immediately.

"I'm Angela Righetti," said the oldest of the three women. "I came in here from Proxima Centauri."

"We're the Kimuras; I'm Bruce and this is Takara. And this is Selek." The baby, upon hearing his name, smiled a bit. "We came in from Lafa II. We're on our second."

"I'm Leah Robinson," said the third woman, "I came here from, well, I live on Mars anyway."

"You look like you didn't lose your figure," Angela said to Leah.

"I'm new to this. I'm not even a month along. There was, they said there were new Vulcans who were found. I guess you've been around this block, Angela."

"I have indeed. I've got four kids of my own; they're all grown and gone, along with my ex. But, you know, I've got this empty nest now. So I decided _what the hell_. It's a long stint, though, right, Takara?"

"It's over a year," Takara confirmed. "It's worth it and I love Selek." She smiled at the baby, who was fascinated by her. "But I wonder, you know, how is he gonna grow up? I mean, _really_? I mean, these kids are all supposed to have Vulcan names, but you know there are people who just give them a Vulcan name, but they're called something else at home. And how the hell is this crowd," she vaguely gestured, "gonna accept a Vulcan who's used to being called _Butch_ or _Missy_?"

"People really do that?" asked Leah.

"I know it first hand," Angela confirmed. "I'm the only one in my area, but there are others on Proxima. We used to get together, yanno, tea and cake and complain about your swollen ankles, that kinda thing. We even had a baby shower for one girl. I forget what she really named her baby. But it wasn't – _isn't_ – being used. I saw them not too long ago, and she called the kid _Maureen_."

"Are they here?" Leah inquired.

Angela shook her head. "I guess they're not related to anyone in the Martian crowd."

"I live in Trellium Town," Leah said, "it's about an hour away by transport. They bring us here sometimes. Nobody who's a resident of Mars would dare to do such a thing, I think. _Maureen_? Doesn't that woman know that ' _Maureen'_ ," Leah made air quotes as she spoke, "isn't really her kid?"

"Well, they are, and they aren't," Bruce explained. "You know the commitment as well as we do – you're on the hook for a total of ten years, so it's until they're about eight and a half or so, almost nine. On Lafa II, there's a small support group, and we've gone sometimes. Because we're on our second, they feel Takara and me are the experts. I dunno."

"Maybe you are," Leah offered.

Bruce shook his head. "It's artificial. But it's better than having them raised by robot nannies, I suppose. But nobody's got a playbook. Do we sign Selek up for Little League, or meditation, when the time is right? And what about when he's eight and a half or so and we have to turn him loose? What then?"

"I don't really, yanno," Takara began, and then she got a little weepy. Bruce took Selek from her as she dabbed at her eyes. "It's these damned hormones they pump us up with," she explained. "But it's not just that." She sighed. "I have no idea what we'll do in around eight years or so, when we have to give him up."

"I'll be ancient," Angela said, "and I will get to have _Empty Nest Syndrome_ all over again, eh? 'Course by that time, hopefully I'll be a Granny with my biological kids."

"Well, they want to raise these kids as Vulcans," Leah said, "I guess I can't really blame 'em, except I don't think anybody really thought it all through. I mean, in less than a decade, a few thousand kids will be separated from the only family they've ever known. It doesn't seem right, as I think about it."

"I thought you were just in it for the sweet paycheck," Takara reminded her.

"Well, there's that. I was kinda drifting. This will keep me fed and all for a long time. I won't lie and tell you it wasn't my main reason for doing this."

"But then those pesky hormones kick in, and you realize it's not just about the bucks," Angela said.

"It definitely _isn't_ ," Takara confirmed.

=/\=

A transport and a private shuttle landed at about the same time. Shaw ran out to meet them. He smoothed back his hair with his fingers. _Damn_. Amidst all the other thousand and one preparations, he had forgotten to get a trim.

He _really_ wanted to greet the private shuttle, but he knew his protocols and instead greeted the transport. Elderly Vulcans emerged, accompanied by MACOs who guarded them closely. An older Vulcan male, distinguished in bearing, approached first. "Colonel Shaw," he said.

"Ambassador Sarek, welcome to the Martian Sanctuary."

"We thank you," Sarek replied. He walked past Shaw and the remainder of the Vulcan Council in Exile followed, robes flowing and softly swishing behind them.

Shaw looked past him to the private shuttle and the discharge of its single passenger – Julie Parker. "I see y'all found the place okay," he joked.

"I'm still not certain as to why I'm here, Colonel," she said. She lifted two bags out herself. He made as if to help her, but she waved him off. "I've got equipment, of course. It shouldn't take me too long to set up. I can interview the members of the High Council if they're amenable to that, or any of your, er, _inmates_ who are willing."

"We prefer the term _guests_."

"Of course. But this is a rather restricted area. I can see where some might be a little skeptical," she said. "Then again, the whole situation is rather unique. A sentient endangered species, requiring protection and a fast-track repopulation plan, and not to mention the fact that they normally have sex every seven years."

"They, well, my understanding, Ms. Parker," Jack replied, fighting not to think about other things, "I understand that they have relations more often than that, if they're in, uh, stable relationships. The every seven years thing – er, _Pon Farr_ – it's for the purpose of conceiving children. And, um, it's for cementing marital bonds as a result of arranged marriages."

"Right," Julie asked, "tell me, have there been any marriages?" They began to walk, with Jack leading the way.

"Four. I guess we got a few good things out of the, um, experience. People meet, you know, and they set aside their differences and their expectations and they try something new. I imagine our next generation will be a bit freer in that area," Shaw stated.

"Possibly. I've seen the Andorian Sanctuary," she replied, "and there are surrogates who are doing all sorts of things to the kids – stuff that the Vulcans would undoubtedly find appalling if they didn't think that would open them up to big, bad emotions."

"Such as?"

"Eating meat, calling their children by human or Andorian names, that sort of thing."

"That's a big part of why the High Council wants the kids gathered up in eight or so years. They're not thrilled with the first _Pon Farr_ happening when the children are with their surrogate families, but we all agreed that it would be a lot for them to cover. They'd have to deal with a bunch of kids going through puberty and also being away from the only parents they'd ever known. So it was decided to make the first _Pon Farr_ and the separation not happen at the same time. Anyway, well, this is the main area where everyone will be dining." It was all open air, as there was no room big enough for all five thousand or so people.

"When is dinner?"

"In about ten minutes. You definitely pick your moments."

"Is there some special place I should sit?" she asked.

"Actually," he came closer, "I have something else in mind."

"Oh?"

He escorted her over to his office, where the small turkey dinner had been set up. "I, uh, here."

"Did you bring me here under false pretenses, Colonel?"

"No, uh, not really," Jack said, "Look, I do need for there to be a little press coverage of this event. Any surrogates or Vulcans not here really need to see that this is okay, that this arrangement is as good as we can make it and we are all trying really, _really_ hard."

"And?" She set down one of her bags.

"And I, uh, Jul–, uh, Ms. Parker, I also called y'all here because I wanted to see _you_."

There was silence, and it felt like forever to Jack. "I, uh …." Julie stammered.

"If you, if you have a fellow, or if you're not interested, look, I'll, um, I'll understand." He swallowed before continuing. "But when we met two years ago, when the whole system was originally set up, I, I, uh, I noticed you. I thought your face was pretty and your eyes were nice and you were; y'all were really smart. You asked the good questions. You wanted information, and not to gossip or anything. I respect that. And then we all went to Tandar Prime, do you remember? And it was to scout out some places for, for sanctuaries, and you saw this house, do you remember?"

"I remember seeing what I guess you could call a dream house, uh, yeah."

"I, uh, I got enough money recently. I, I put a stop on it."

"You put money down on it?" she asked.

"Just a, a stop. It doesn't mean anything, and it's fully refundable. And I know how weird that sounds, as I mention it to you. I must sound like some crazy, desperate stalker to you, or something. But it was because, you see, I just wanted to have a little connection. Even if it was a really tiny one. Even if it was kinda hopeless and maybe a little pathetic." He paused. "Maybe a lot pathetic."

"I had no idea," Julie said, "Colonel; I don't even remember your first name. Please, uh, please forgive me for that."

"It's Jack."

"Short for John?"

"For Jacob, actually," he said. "I'm, I'm sorry. I know this is insane, and someone like you would never, ever be interested in someone like me. I'm not memorable to y'all, or anything like, like that."

She gazed at him. "Let me tell you something." He looked into her eyes, which were a rich dark brown. "After I got the invitation and we talked a little, I did some digging. It's what I do, right? And I wanted to determine just how everything was paid for. There's a prako and elekai dinner out there for five thousand or so people, with sides and vegan substitutions and big tents and whatever for all of those people. It's a budget buster out there. And my research told me that it was all your idea. No one prompted you. You just decided to do it. Sure, it's got a purpose, to get the program better press and to try to get those surrogates some long-overdue thanks. But it's also because those kids should meet their real parents, and meet them long before they are supposed to be turned over. And maybe some bonds can be forged, and the Vulcan and the human – and sometimes Andorian or Tandaran or Calafan – sides of things can find a way to work together for the best interests of what are probably going to be some really confused children."

"I, I just want what's right for them. It's not their fault, being born into all this nuttiness," Jack said.

"But I also found, see, I determined that the private shuttle was paid for by one Colonel J. Shaw. And so was a pretty nice room at the Ironville Hotel. And there were other things paid for on that account, and I am guessing most of them are here." Her sweeping gesture encompassed the candles and candlesticks, the turkey, the sides and the magnum of Champagne. "You, you took a chance. And you put all of this together. And until I got here, I didn't really know what it was all for. I actually figured you were looking to butter me up and maybe get better press. And now I can see there was a different purpose. You had something else in mind."

"I'm lousy at this," Shaw admitted. "But I don't drink to excess, not any more than a beer or two after work. I don't gamble. I don't run around. And I, uh, I won't look at anyone else. Hell, I haven't since I met you."

There was another silence. "How can I refuse this?" Julie asked.

Trembling, he approached her. "I, uh …." She didn't let him finish his sentence.

=/\=

Outside, the guests were sitting down. Sarek checked his PADD and walked over to where he saw a young human couple, both of whom were of Asian extraction. "Mrs. Kimura?" he asked.

"Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed, getting up. "Ambassador!"

"I, the message I received informed me that you have, you have been the surrogate for a child of mine. Is this he?" He gestured at Selek, who was being held by Bruce.

"Yeah, this is Selek." Takara said as Bruce brought him over to Sarek.

"He, he resembles my first born, Sybok, a bit," said the Vulcan. "May I?"

"He's your son. Of course you can hold him," Bruce said, handing over the infant.

"He is; he has a half-brother. My son, Spock, serves on the _Enterprise_. He, he should be informed of this." Sarek was, it seemed, a tad overwhelmed by everything.

"We could, we would like to be in touch with you," Bruce said. "I realize you're a busy man. But I think Selek should, he should know you, right?"

"I have, my PADD, a moment," Sarek said, handing the baby over to Takara. He took out his PADD. "We can exchange information, yes?" Bruce clicked his PADD next to Sarek's and the contact information was effortlessly transferred between the two devices.

"Ambassador?" asked Leah, "Do you know any of the people who are staying in the Martian Sanctuary?"

"Not personally, no. I do not. Selek's biological mother, I understand, is in a sanctuary on Oberon, but could not attend this week's festivities. And I do not know any of the Vulcans who are here."

"I was hoping I could meet, the mother of mine is here," Leah said, "She's got kind of an interesting name. It doesn't seem to be Vulcan."

"What is the woman's name?" Sarek inquired.

"Eriecho."

=/\=

Eriecho, Sollastek and Saddik all sat together at a different table. "There are surrogates here who are affiliated with each of us," Eriecho ventured, "We should speak with them."

"I would not know what to say," Sollastek said. "Eriecho, you, you always know what to say."

"I improvise," she said, getting up. The men both stared at her. "Well, come! They are here and we should take advantage of the moment."

"But the, their tables, they smell of meat," Sollastek said.

"Saddik, will you tell him?" she asked. She started to walk away and they hurried to follow her. As she walked, she clicked on her PADD to look for photographs and, at the same time, she also tried to scan the crowds of humans.

"I, well," Saddik began, speaking fairly low so that the other Vulcans would not hear; "When we were at Canamar, well, you see, when there is naught but meat to eat you, it is most logical, that is, for one to consume it."

"Understood," Sollastek said, "but we are here now, and there are vegan meals prepared for us."

"Perhaps they can be moved to where we are going," Saddik said, "I do hope the humans are, well, I am not certain what is best to hope."

"Colonel Shaw is a bit gruff," Eriecho said, "but I think he means well. And Private Theo Carter – we are friends; he is a good person. Perhaps the mothers will be like them." She stopped for a second and they very nearly ran into her. "Over there, I believe." She began to stride purposefully, and they struggled to keep up with her.

She got to the table first. "I, I am Eriecho. There is, you are Leah Robinson, yes?"

"I am." Leah got up quickly.

"I, oh, it is overwhelming," Eriecho said. She about knocked Leah over, hugging her.

Bruce and Angela looked up. "I don't think I've ever seen a Vulcan do _that_ before," she said.

"These are strange times we live in," Sarek said, "but Colonel Shaw, I think he may have known a bit of what he was doing. This is … it is logical for a child to know his or her parents."

"No matter how many there may be, eh?" Angela said.

Eriecho let Leah go for just a moment. "I, I had no family, at Canamar. At least, none that was official. But H'Shema the Suliban cared for me, until she died. And Saddik here did, too, and has been rather like a father to me. And Sollastek, he is, well, he is Sollastek."

He came over and, for the first time in public, held her hand. "I am, I suppose, I am Sollastek."

"And you," Eriecho said to Leah, "this is, it is a holiday for, for family. I think you are family now."

"I'm going to have your daughter," Leah said, "I guess you'll have other daughters and sons. I only know about this one."

"Can she be named H'Shema?"

"Of course."

"You are Sollastek?" asked Takara.

"I am."

"I'm pregnant with your child."

"Oh, that is, it is, I do not quite know what to say," he admitted. "I, I thank you." He looked down.

"That is the right thing to say," Eriecho told him. "And you are almost related to the Ambassador, in a way."

"I suppose so," allowed Sarek. "It is a bit … irregular."

"Isn't everything about this irregular?" asked Angela.

"Point taken," Sarek conceded.

Colonel Shaw came out with a woman who Sarek recognized. Shaw was carrying a bag of equipment for her. "Miss Parker," the ambassador said to her, "Have you come to cover this event?"

"That and other things," Julie said. "I take it you've met someone."

He gestured over to where Takara was holding Selek. "Yes, I have. This manner of rebuilding our species is logical but it is also …."

"A bit fraught with emotions?" she asked. "This can be off the record. I, uh, I haven't started working yet." She glanced over at Shaw, who smiled a little.

"Unsettling," Sarek said.

"That's as good a word as any," interjected Angela. "Uh, Colonel?" He looked up. "Do you know either of these people?"

She showed him names on her PADD. "Ah, the parents of yours. Hang on, I'll introduce you." He took her away from the group, toward people who Eriecho recognized as being some of the more vehement shunners of her and Saddik.

"I suppose there is no way to select the parents," Eriecho said.

"For the program, sure," Julie said, "At least, that's how I've been led to believe. I've seen Shaw several times over the past few years, as this program was set up, and sanctuaries like this one were built. Is there something wrong?"

"My father and I," Eriecho gestured to Saddik, "we were wrongfully detained in the Canamar Prison. Despite our innocence, there are many who have refused to sit with us, and are otherwise," she thought a little in order to use the correct word, "uncomfortable with our presence."

"My understanding," Sarek said, "is that you could change to another location, such as on Oberon, if this one is too difficult."

"I fear we would meet with the same reception," Eriecho said.

"Fear? Isn't that an emotion?" Takara asked. She brought over the baby again and Sarek and he stared at one another a bit.

"I was, well," Eriecho explained, "our circumstances were such that I could not benefit from Surak's teachings, such as for emotional control. Canamar was a rather trying place."

"Ambassador," Saddik said, "despite her emotionalism, and my having been a convict, are we not Vulcans? In the grand scheme, there are few of us who remain. Is it not more logical for us to be accepted by all? We should pull together."

"That is true. We have few choices now," replied the ambassador. "My own family has been halved. My wife is gone. I do not know what has happened to Sybok."

Julie gazed into space for a second and formulated a plan. "Ambassador?" she asked. "I can make my microphone amplify your voice here, if you like. You could address your people without having to shout."

"Yes," he said, "that is a good idea. I will do so."

She worked the controls and took a headset out of her bag and gave it to him to put on. He nodded and began to speak. "It is on this occasion that I feel I should speak with you."

The other Vulcans and humans all stopped what they were doing in order to listen. He continued. "I see the humans are mostly on one side, and my fellow Vulcans are on your own side. Yet this dinner, and this week, they have been set aside for you to meet one another. And you are not doing so. And I have been speaking with two persons who were wrongfully sent to Canamar Prison. And you apparently rarely speak with them as well."

He cleared his throat a little before proceeding. "I understand that there is an Earth saying. It is something like this – _beggars cannot be choosers_. Is that correct, Miss Parker?"

"Yes, that's right."

"And my understanding of what that signifies is that we are a small band. And we have few options for meeting others. The humans and our other allies have done what they can in order to accommodate and assist us. For without them, we would be most vulnerable. And our species, I am certain, we would die out." He paused to let that sink in a little. "For our natural processes, they are slow. I have heard humans refer to Vulcan customs about marriage as moving at a glacial pace. And that is true. But the glaciers, they must be rushed. And wombs must be rented. And we must live in places such as this, for our own safety, and to make friendships among our people. And to, perhaps, meet new mates."

He looked down, remembering a woman who was no more. "My understanding is that this is a holiday for family. And our families have all been sundered. And so we must make new ones. And they might have red or blue blood, rather than green, in their veins. They might have emotions. They might eat meat. But consider this." He gestured to Takara to hand him the baby, and she did so.

He lifted Selek up high so that the infant could readily be seen. " _This is my child_!" he called out to them, loudly. " _He is a Vulcan_! And it is he who will help to rebuild our race. _He and thousands like him are our future_!" He nodded to Takara and Bruce to stand near him. They did, as they were a little anxious about Selek. "And these good people, they are, they are no replacement for the ones who are gone." He brought Selek back down and Bruce took the infant. "But they are my family now, if they will have me." He took off the headset and gave it back to Julie.

Jack returned and walked right up to Julie. "Y'all got your story?"

"And more. There should be a new term for it. It's not quite a _human_ interest story."

"I guess not," he said, "I, uh, this isn't a gift-giving holiday, but I know I got ever'thing I wanted just the same. Happy Thanksgiving, Julia."

" _Juliet_ ," she corrected him. "Happy Thanksgiving, to you and to everyone here."

"And to you as well, Miss Parker, Colonel," said an eavesdropping Eriecho, "For I, too, have received all that I have wished for, and am most grateful."


	7. 7-Across the Universe

Across the Universe

He's a real nowhere man  
Sitting in his nowhere land  
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody

Mean Mr. Mustard

Mean Mister Mustard sleeps in the park  
Shaves in the dark trying to save paper

"Spock, what brings this communication?" Sarek peered at the image of his younger son, Spock, on the view screen. It was a few years since the destruction of Vulcan and the death of his wife, the human, Amanda Grayson. Spock rarely called.

"Tell me about him, Father."

"Who are you inquiring about?"

"My brother, Sybok."

The elder Vulcan looked down. A flicker passed over his face. It was the tiniest registering of emotion. He looked down, and then up. It was a look of the barest element of the Vulcan equivalent of surprise. It was even a smidgen of fear. "I had thought that you would have forgotten," Sarek admitted.

"I could not have readily forgotten such a man. He came to our home, and he was larger than life," Spock said, "I recall he kissed Mother on her cheek, and he embraced her, and he made her laugh. I did not often hear her laugh."

"That is true," Sarek confirmed.

"He spoke to me briefly during that visit, in private."

"You have never mentioned this incident before, my son."

"I had occasion to recall it recently, Father. Sybok told me then; he said that I should play more. He said that Vulcan society would turn me into a – these were his very words – _boring_ adult, far too early. And he said that I had many decades to be an adult, but only a few years to be a child. He said that, while I was still a child, that I should continue to play, and to _be_ a child, and to hold onto that for as long as I possibly could, for I would only experience one lifetime."

"You were, perhaps, three years of age when he was able to visit, that one time," Sarek stated. "But you have mentioned that there was an occasion for you to recall this incident in our lives. Tell me, my son, what was this occasion?"

"I was contacted by the man we are referring to as _Spock Prime_. He has gotten settled a bit, on Earth, and he has asked me if Sybok yet lives. And that has triggered my all too few recollections."

"I would speculate," Sarek said, "that Sybok is somewhere, and is yet among the living. He was, after all, neither on Vulcan nor on a Federation ship at the time of Nero's attacks."

"I will request that an investigation be conducted," Spock vowed, "If he lives, then he should be protected, perhaps in one of the sanctuaries, like on Andoria, or on Mars, even."

"You may not recall him too well," Sarek cautioned, "but he is _V'tosh ka'tur_. That is, he does not suppress his emotions. He was not properly trained by his mother. She was ill, and her death at an early age meant that Sybok was often moved from home to home. I lost track of him when he was not much older than you were when you met him that one time. Still," Sarek explained, "I believe that, much like this man you are referring to as _Spock Prime_ , Sybok will not be satisfied with the kind of overly regimented life such as is offered at a standard Vulcan sanctuary."

"That is likely true. Father, Spock Prime has told me that he would like to be able to speak with you, and perhaps even to see you, if you are willing. Would you grant him a meeting?"

There was another very brief flicker over Sarek's features. "It is," he paused, as if he was searching for the proper words, "a rather _unsettling_ thing, to have, in a way, two versions of one's one child."

"No, Father," Spock gently corrected Sarek, "two versions of your _younger_ child."

"Yes, and more are on the way, from those volunteer surrogate mothers. And my eldest," his eyes darted to one side for a second, "to even speculate that he might be alive. I must meditate regarding this matter."

Once the communications link was severed, Sarek tried and tried, but he was unable to attain the release normally afforded to him by meditation.

=/\=

Nimbus Three was a barren desert of a world, scarcely fit for man or beast. Or Vulcan. Astride an imported horse, a bearded man rode through the scrublands. As he met others in the wastes, he would often stop and dismount. Mind melding with them briefly, and allowing his touch telepathy to do all of the work, he was addicted to the sensation of feeling others' pain.

During one such session, his hood slipped, and pointed ears were revealed. The man he had melded with looked on in surprise. "You are a Vulcan?"

"I am," the bearded figure replied, "and I thank you for unburdening yourself to me. I am here to accept your pain."

"But surely that cannot be your overarching desire? There must be more to you than that, than to be a dark mirror's reflection."

"Oh there is, Brother, for I am on a quest, to find Sha Ka Ree. But I'll need your help."

"Anything for you."

"Good. We will be a Galactic Army of Light. We need to contact Vulcan, and tell them that Sybok needs a starship."

I Saw Her Standing There

Well she looked at me, and I, I could see  
That before too long I'd fall in love with her  
She wouldn't dance with another (whoo)  
When I saw her standing there

At the Martian sanctuary, a fairly young Vulcan woman with blonde hair was kneeling in the red dust and weeding a garden. Next to her, an even younger woman was standing and holding a basket and staring at the ground. "I do not see the point in all of this weeding," the standing woman declared. "It will all return again shortly. And did not the humans eliminate all of the weeds when they terraformed this world? Or at least they should have. The importation of weeds is highly illogical."

"Valeris," explained the kneeling woman, "what I have been referring to as _weeds_ are generally other useful plants. They have merely strayed to incorrect and improper places."

"Then perhaps you could cultivate those misplaced plants, Eriecho," suggested Valeris. "It would be far less labor."

"I enjoy being busy. And Sollastek enjoys the peas and yellow peppers. It would be a waste of time to cultivate cabbage when he does not prefer it." She straightened up. "That is, it would be illogical."

"Your lessons," Valeris commented, "how are they coming along?"

"As well as anything, I suppose," Eriecho admitted. "It is difficult to learn to suppress emotions and be overly committed to logic, when I have not been for so very long."

"Is this a requirement of Sollastek's? You need not change that much in order to secure a mate."

"I know," Eriecho said, "it is more that I am attempting to create comfort and a familiar home for him. When we have wed, we will be together even more. And he will need for me to be more like a regular Vulcan, I believe."

"Are you certain?" Valeris asked. She had big, doe-like eyes, and peered into Eriecho's face as she spoke. "Sollastek seems quite taken with you, despite your less than perfect embrace of logic and emotional suppressions. I do not believe he would be gratified to learn that you are attempting to alter yourself. He has not asked for this, I suspect."

"He has not," Eriecho admitted, "yet I wish to please him all the same. Being shunned is not easy."

"I am of the opinion," Valeris said, "that your desire to suppress emotions does not come from any desire to please Sollastek." She paused and then added, "I believe you are attempting, yourself, to fit in."

Eriecho hurried away, not wanting to deal with Valeris, who was proving to be all too perceptive.

=/\=

On the _USS Enterprise_ , Nyota Uhura looked up when there was a door chime at her quarters. A glance at the wall chronometer confirmed that, on the ship, it was late. "Come in."

It was Spock. "I apologize for the lateness of the hour," he said, "but I was unable to rest."

"Come in." She allowed the door to close before kissing him. "This is a good surprise. And you know, you don't need an invitation, and you don't have to provide a reason for coming over."

"I understand that. But it is that I am having trouble relaxing."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"I have contacted my father."

"Oh?" she asked.

"Yes, and it was about a matter that I believe is of some contention."

She patted a spot on the bed. "Come and sit down, and tell me what's troubling you. What's this contentious topic?"

"The family," he began, "it is – may I begin from the outset?" She nodded, so he continued, "A few years before my father met my mother, he was involved with a different woman. I do not quite know how to describe her."

"I'm not so sure I understand what that means, Spock. Was she a human?"

"No, she was Vulcan. Our people, long ago, there was a monarchy. And there are remnants of the royal family who remain. She was one of them."

"Was?"

"Yes. Her name was T'Moona. She was a princess. But she was also damaged, apparently."

"What kind of damage are we talking about?"

"She and my father, they," he paused, "I was originally told that she had seduced him, yet that seems unlikely."

"Maybe it was mutual."

"That possibility did occur to me. She had his child. They never wed."

"What happened to her? And to your older, uh, _sister_?"

"Brother." Spock took a breath. "She took her own life. I am not sure why. Her family claimed Sybok – my brother – and they disappeared. My father searched for his son for a while. It is, actually, how he met my mother, as she was living on Kaldra IV, one of the places where he searched. She was working as a teacher; he entered her classroom and inquired about all of her charges. My father did this with any person he met who worked with children. Mother was no exception. But he spent additional time there, and they spoke more than they perhaps needed to."

"You never told me that story before. But let's get to the heart of the matter. Why are you thinking about this now? And why are you thinking about it so much that you can't get any sleep?"

"I spoke with Spock Prime, and he asked whether Sybok lived. It brought a memory to the surface. Sybok visited us once, when I was about three years of age. I have the slightest of memories of him. Father says that Sybok only visited that one time. And Father also says that he believes Sybok remains among the living. Nyota, he may be a living Vulcan who has not yet been accounted for."

"Wait, whoa, wait a second," she asked, "What happened during this visit?"

"I recall Sybok telling me to remain as a child as long as possible."

"What I mean is; what happened with your father, Spock? I mean, Sybok returns after your father had been looking for him for years. But he only came back once, and even that was years ago. So tell me, Spock, what happened that made him leave again?"

"I do not know."

"You should have another talk with your father, I think," she suggested. "And," she added, "I bet you're right. Let's talk to the captain in the morning. Maybe we can go back to Kaldra IV or its neighborhood or wherever, and find Sybok." She kissed him again. "Because I get the feeling you won't sleep too much until he's accounted for."

=/\=

As Eriecho strode away from the community garden, she saw the human director of the Martian sanctuary, Colonel Jack Shaw. With him was a human MACO she had befriended, Theo Carter.

"I hear we'll dance at y'all's wedding," Shaw said to her.

"Dance?" Eriecho asked.

"Yes," Carter confirmed, dark eyes sparkling, "and with the bride and everything."

"I do not imagine that Vulcan weddings are like that."

"Not too much," Shaw confirmed, "and not all human ones are, either. Still, seeing as you've embraced more of the human end of things, people like us can't help but to think that maybe you'll follow those traditions, as well."

"I do not know yet," Eriecho admitted, "although I do wish for a mix of Vulcan, Suliban and human traditions." The two men nodded at her.

"I did want to ask you something," Carter mentioned.

"Yes, Theo?"

"How come you stopped playing ball with us?"

"Private," Colonel Shaw turned to the younger man, "maybe Eriecho here wants to do something more, I dunno, feminine with her time than play touch football with the enlisted personnel."

"I do," Eriecho stated, "I need to try to be more Vulcan, I feel." She hurried away as Shaw and Carter looked at each other, wondering what they'd said to upset her.

I Am the Walrus

I am he as you are he as you are me  
And we are all together  
See how they run like pigs from a gun see how they fly  
I'm crying

J'onn, the most recent person who Sybok had 'helped', followed along as Sybok rode. "I said, ' _I think we should go to Paradise City_.'"

"Oh and why is that?" asked Sybok.

"They have a communications array."

"True," allowed the Vulcan, "but I don't want to simply _go_ there; we should enter as conquerors! What's the name of that human Federation representative again?"

"St. John Talbot."

"Yes, yes, if I can capture his pain, then it'll be far easier." Sybok thought for a moment. "I will go on ahead. Follow later, when you are able. But not too late. I'll be leaving this so-called _Planet of Galactic Peace_ as soon as I can." He pressed his heels into the sides of the horse, which galloped off, as well as it could.

J'onn stood and stared after the disappearing figure of Sybok on horseback. "I will follow."

=/\=

Paradise City was neither a paradise, nor was it anything that could be rightfully referred to as a city. Yet it was the only organized settlement on Nimbus III. The planet was _supposed_ to be for settlers. It was to have been a mecca for eager young colonists with families to raise, and trades to ply.

Instead, it was a lie made manifest, a monument to greed and indifference and wishful thinking. The ground was not arable, the climate was not congenial, and the sights and heritage were nonexistent. It was too hot to be a skiers' destination, and too barren to support a football franchise or an arts community. It was really just the godforsaken armpit of the galaxy, if not the universe.

For Sybok, it had been a refuge and a desired destination. As he had matured, he had chafed under the strictures of the last vestiges of the Vulcan royal family. His sole ambition became the goal of causing them discomfort. He had, to that end, discarded logic, embraced emotion, and had sought the worst places in the galaxy to lay his head. Nimbus III fit his requirements rather neatly.

In order to get there, he had needed funding. And that had, several years previously, led him to locate his father on Vulcan. Sarek's new family was a thoroughly unexpected bonus. And a human stepmother! Surely she would find a way to bypass Sarek and fund Sybok's twisted dreams.

But instead the visit had swiftly turned sour. There was much that had been kept from the child, Spock, and that was the biggest part of it. Amanda and Sarek had had a disagreement, and Sarek had resorted to asking his first born to leave. As Sarek and Amanda again discussed what to do, Sybok had been left to his own devices, and he had gone to speak to the child, his half-brother.

In that respect, Spock's memories were complete and accurate. Sybok _had_ told him to retain his childhood for as long as possible. But the moment was cut short, as Sarek presented Sybok with his few packed belongings, again tied into a bundle for traveling.

As Sarek had looked away, Amanda had pressed a few coins into Sybok's hand. This was not the sole act of charity. When Sybok opened his bundle that evening, he found a few packets of toasted flat cakes made of grain, enough provisions for several days.

The coins had gotten him as far as Andoria, and the sweat of his brow had, eventually, gotten him to Nimbus III. But that had been years ago. Extracting other people's personal pain and overdoing the mind melding and touch telepathy had changed Sybok.

He no longer wished to mortify the last vestiges of the Vulcan royal family. Instead, he wanted to spread his word to a true Eden, and not the false promise of Nimbus III and Paradise City. He fancied himself a prophet and a preacher, and all he wanted was to fulfill his perceived destiny, in a legendary place known as _Sha Ka Ree_.

=/\=

Captain James T. Kirk looked at Spock and Uhura. "Are you _sure_ there's a Vulcan who's not accounted for?" The three of them were sitting together in the ship's mess but were, fortunately, alone.

"We're not sure of _anything_ ," Uhura replied, "Right now; this is more of a hunch than anything else."

"A detour to Kaldra IV would take less than two days," Spock explained. "If there is a Vulcan there, then the interruption in our current mission of exploration would be more than justified."

"And if there isn't?" Kirk sighed. "Starfleet is looking to us, to go exploring. Everybody wants peace, and I'm all for that, but you gotta understand something. That means actually doing something with our time. We are _supposed_ to be getting all of the things done that we couldn't, while we were dealing with the likes of Nero and Khan." He looked at Spock in particular. "We're all glad that they're gone, and I can understand the interest, but Starfleet can send one of their slower ships for that, right?"

Uhura looked at Spock. "Tell him," she urged.

"Tell me _what_?"

"The Vulcan who we suspect is somewhere in this area is," Spock paused, "a member of my family."

Now Kirk was interested. "Tell me more, and don't spare the details." After Spock and Uhura had explained who Sybok was, the captain asked, "Why do you think he's _here_ , as opposed to anywhere else in the galaxy? What's so special about _here_?"

"This planet is where my parents met."

"But that doesn't make it particularly special to Sybok," Kirk countered. "You of all people would know that, Spock." He thought for a few seconds. "Let's do this. We'll change course. But in the meantime, I need for _you_ , Lieutenant," he looked at Uhura as he spoke, "to pull every string you can, and get into contact with Spock Prime. I know he's got his frequency hidden and he wants to be the one to initiate all of his communications, but this is important. He can't hide from it forever. Use anything you can get from the record of when he contacted Spock here. He's probably got a better idea of where Sybok could be than anyone else has. And we'll see what happens."

"Thank you, Captain," said Spock.

"Don't thank me just yet. I'm giving you only one week," Kirk cautioned, "but if there's nothing by then, I'll have to pull the plug on this. I'm sorry, but despite the few years I've put in, they still don't much care for me at Starfleet Headquarters. This was supposed to be an easier detail, but it didn't mean that we were allowed to blow it off or take too many detours. Let's not give them any _other_ reasons to hate me. I've been working too hard, since Khan was defeated a few years ago, to go back to the way things were, when this mission and I were both dangling by a thread most of the time."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Is there a concern about the opinions of Starfleet that I am detecting in your voice, Captain?"

"I don't give a damn what those paper pushers think or say or do," Kirk countered, perhaps a bit defensively, "not when it comes to me, that is. But I can't let it affect this ship, or this crew."

Uhura got up and bused her tray. "I'll get started on finding Spock Prime now, sir." She departed.

"Spock," Kirk said, "I just want you to know that I think this is worth it."

"I appreciate that, Captain."

=/\=

Sybok dismounted once he got into Paradise City. He led the horse over to the most prominent building in town, a nondescript three-story structure that served as house of worship, restaurant, seat of government, and brothel, among other things. It was also the home of Nimbus III's sole communications array.

He tied the horse's reins to a nearby post and walked in. There were three people in there – a rather large male Klingon, a human and a Romulan woman. "Ah," Sybok said, "General Korrd, Mister Talbot and Caithlin Dar, I presume?"

"You're that preacher from the lowlands," Caithlin, the Romulan, observed.

"Padre," said Talbot, "we haven't got any alms, you know."

"That's not why I'm here," Sybok explained, "I'm here to use the communications array, to contact Vulcan."

"You don't know?" Korrd asked.

"Know what?" Sybok inquired.

"Vulcan was destroyed in '58," explained Talbot.

"Five _years_ ago?" Sybok was incredulous.

"Yes," confirmed Caithlin, "but this place is such a backwater, we weren't told until a year ago." She paused. "They're looking for Vulcans, you know. If we had known how to reach you, Preacher, we'd have passed along the request."

"Uh, certainly," Sybok's tone was that of skepticism. "Tell me, if you will, whether you'd like to get off this charming, as you put it, backwater."

Talbot, who was an older British fellow with a messy air about him, grabbed a self-lighting cigarette from a small case in a zippered pocket. "And what makes you think we'd believe that you would have the means to do so?"

"I tell you," Sybok smiled at them all, "if they want Vulcans, then they're going to want _me_. And maybe I can have, I don't know, an _entourage_ of sorts."

Korrd snorted at that. "You expect _us_ to follow _you_? We're not the simple peasant folk you run into, in the lowlands! We are," he considered his next word as he belched loudly, " _sophisticated_."

"Sophisticated, my beard!" roared Sybok, laughing. Then he thought for a few seconds. "You want to get off this rock, yes? Well, so do I. But ships will not come here, not often. Let us think of how to get one to come."

=/\=

Two hours later, on the Bridge, Uhura turned and reported to the captain, "I found him."

"Come with me. You, too, Spock." The three of them got up. "Mister Chekov, you've got command. We'll be back soon." They left as Sulu and Chekov glanced at each other. Both men shrugged.

In the turbolift, after the doors had shut, Kirk praised, "That was fast. People have been looking for him for a few years."

Uhura explained, "I took a chance and found him through an old trick. It seems someone taught him how to hide his communications behind a dead Starfleet member's mail account."

"Whose account was he using?" asked the captain.

"A guy from the old _NX-01,_ who died back in 2161 or 2162 or so – an engineer named Charles Tucker III." She made a bit of a face. "It's morbid, but it works."

"We'll go to my office," Kirk said. "Deck Eight," he commanded, and the turbolift began to move.

Once in his office, Kirk nodded to Uhura, who bypassed the main board and opened a channel to Earth. "Go ahead."

The image of a far older version of Spock appeared. The elderly man looked at the three of them. "You are just as resourceful in this timeline as you are in any other, Miss Uhura."

"Sir?" she asked.

"My means of avoiding detection – you found it."

"It was a hunch," she admitted. "Someone in Communications must have taught you how to do that."

"Yes," Spock Prime confirmed, " _you_ did."

She swallowed a little and looked at Kirk and Spock. "You're on, I guess."

"Spock," Kirk began, and both the Vulcan with him in his office and the Vulcan on the screen turned to him, "we are currently on course for Kaldra IV."

"That is where my parents met," Spock Prime stated. "Is there some reason for that particular destination?"

"It was the most logical place I could posit for Sybok's current location," admitted the younger Spock. "He had met Mother, and I recall he was rather fond of her. Sybok is not on Earth and he is not in any of the Vulcan sanctuaries. Furthermore, he does not serve in Starfleet or any of its many affiliates."

"Actually," Kirk said to the older version of Spock, "I think you know better. I bet you have a good idea of where Sybok might be."

"If he is the way he was during my timeline – and there is an equivalent possibility that things will be rather different – but in my timeline, he was located on Nimbus III," Spock Prime stated. "Furthermore, he and his associates were able to create a so-called Galactic Army of Light, deceive the _Enterprise,_ and hijack the ship."

"What was his destination?" Uhura asked.

"A mythical place called Sha Ka Ree. It is the Vulcan version of Paradise. But you see, Sybok was being led on by a malevolent noncorporeal alien entity. In my timeline, he sacrificed himself in order to save others. Essentially, he was redeemed in the end, if I may be permitted some religious terminology."

"There is an equal possibility," opined the younger version of Spock, "that Sybok is nothing like that. However, it is more logical to search for him on Nimbus III, I believe."

"Isn't that the site of some failed colony?" asked Kirk.

Uhura brought up a picture and shared it with all of them. "Talk about your false advertising! It says here that Nimbus III is supposed to be an unspoiled paradise. But look at it. What a dump," she complained. Both Spocks raised an eyebrow, so Uhura added, "what I mean is, I can't understand why anyone would go there voluntarily."

Kirk looked over her shoulder. "It says here that the demographics are 73 percent male, 21 percent female, and six percent other. I wonder if we can use this information. But I agree, why go there?" 

"For Sybok, at least in my own timeline," Spock Prime explained, "he was exiled there. It was a rather lawless place. Perhaps it is in this timeline as well." He peered intently at the three of them. "In my timeline, he used his touch telepathy to control others. His justification was that he was eliminating their pain and accepting it for himself. I urge caution."

"Do you think he's sick somehow?" asked Kirk.

"It is a distinct possibility," stated the elder Spock. "There are illnesses, like Pa'Nar Syndrome, that could account for his behaviors."

"Yet that is _your_ timeline. Perhaps this version differs significantly, much like our two versions do." The younger Spock glanced at Uhura for just a second.

"Still, it would pay to be prepared," Kirk declared. "We'll start to broadcast to all frequencies, a reward for producing Vulcans. That ought to bring them outta the woodwork. And we'll take a tour of the area, unless he comes to us first. C'mon, let's go back to the Bridge."

Kirk made as if to turn off the desktop unit, but Uhura intercepted his hand. "You two go on ahead. I'll follow you soon." After they had left, she said, "Sir, I'm a little curious about you referring to me by my last name or my title only."

"Is that not respectful?" the aged Vulcan asked.

"It is, and maybe I'm not helping things by calling you _sir_. Still, uh, I want you to know that, in this timeline, there's something between us."

"I see."

"And I was wondering, in your timeline, was there ever anything?"

The elder Spock replied, "No, there was not. You, that is to say, your counterpart in my timeline, you had a brief relationship with Commander Scott."

"I _did_?"

"You were older. I believe you were in your fifties or sixties at the time. I know that your counterpart never married, neither Mister Scott nor anyone else."

"Oh." The realization seemed to sink in. "I'm not sure how that information makes me feel."

"Lieutenant," he said, "in my timeline, I always considered your counterpart to be intelligent, capable, kind, and pleasant. I valued my associations with her a great deal."

She smiled at him a little warily. "I'm not so sure what I was expecting when I mentioned it to you. But thank you for the glimpse at your life. And for this. We'll be careful around Sybok, if we find him."

"In the end, he did the right thing. He is more than capable of such things. Spock out."

Back on the Bridge, the generalized message was sent and repeated as the _Enterprise_ reached the vicinity of the Kaldra System. "Anything?" Kirk asked after several repetitions.

"Nothing yet, sir." Uhura adjusted her earpiece. "Just a moment. Captain, I am picking up something on an ancient shortwave band. It's audio only."

"Let's hear it."

"This is St. John Talbot of Nimbus III. Your offer is most intriguing. We should like for you to beam down to our coordinates, or send a shuttle, so that we can talk about it."

"Or you could beam up here," Kirk counteroffered.

"This is the _Planet of Galactic Peace_ ," Talbot replied, "Let us show you our version of hospitality! Our homes and our foods may be modest, but our hearts are big!"

Kirk held a hand up and Uhura cut the sound. "Figure out his coordinates, and start scanning for Vulcan bio signs." He nodded and she restored the sound. "Well, Mister Talbot, we've got some pretty impressive facilities here. This is a rather large coed ship. So let _us_ entertain _you_. In fact, I insist. Send us your coordinates, and you'll enjoy the fabled hospitality of Captain James Kirk and the starship _Enterprise_."

Spock scanned as quickly as he could. He nodded as Talbot replied, "Did you say that there are women aboard?"

"This ship is about forty-six percent female," Kirk clarified as Uhura glared a bit. But the tactic was working.

"You," Talbot was heard to say, "get them our coordinates." His voice became louder as he added, "I – _we_ – consent to your terms. I'm sure this will be most enjoyable. Talbot out."

Once the connection was cut, Spock reported, "I have found two very similar bio signs. They are either Vulcan or Romulan. One is male; the other is female."

"Looks like the promise of women is the way to get to Talbot," Kirk opined. "But we don't need him, I'm thinking. Let's beam up the two _maybes_. If they're both Romulans, we'll send them back and make some sort of an apology, claim the transporter isn't working right. We'll entertain the rest of them and see if Talbot has anything, although I bet he doesn't. If it's one or two Vulcans and neither of them are Sybok, we'll throw back any non-Vulcan and again go the entertainment route. But if Sybok is there, whether or not his companion is Vulcan, we'll need to be cautious. Let's get a Security team to the transporter room. Spock, you're with me. Sulu, take command."

As the captain and his first officer got into the turbolift, Uhura communicated, "Security, send a team to the transporter room."

=/\=

The transporter shimmered and revealed its passengers as soon as Kirk and Spock entered the room. It was a Romulan woman and a Vulcan man. "How very interesting," the man observed. He had a booming voice, and was dressed in a tattered off-white cloak. The woman, in contrast, had her hair twisted up in an elaborate style. Beautiful, she was well-groomed, a diamond of the desert. "Spock," he enthused, "it's been far too long!" He glanced around at the Security team. "Very wise precaution, Captain. But I assure you that Miss Caithlin Dar and I aren't any more harmful than a pair of tribbles."

"We'll see about that," Kirk looked at Sybok. "We really only want you. One of our sworn Federation principles now is for Vulcans to be protected."

"Protected?" inquired Caithlin.

"Yes," Captain Kirk confirmed, "like the endangered species that they've unfortunately become."

"I imagine there are any number of positive benefits from getting in on the ground floor. If we're such a rare commodity, I imagine we are rather valuable," Sybok raised an eyebrow and smiled at Caithlin. "Tell me, Spock, how is your mother? I always liked her."

"She died in the attack on Vulcan," Spock reported.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Truly, I am. A moment, if you please." He shepherded Caithlin to a side of the room where no one else was standing. "Your thoughts?"

"This could be a very valuable trade," she said, voice lowered. "I suspect this could work out even better than gathering together a so-called _Galactic Army of Light_."

"Don't mock my ideas."

"I'm not! But even you have to admit that going terrorist is uncomfortable, and it has a very low success rate. Plus you end up in jail or dead – if you thought Nimbus III was bad, try Canamar or Gemara. Do you honestly want all of the Federation chasing after you for the rest of your days? The Klingon High Council won't be thrilled if you succeed in getting Korrd under your control and then run rampant. And the Romulan Star Empire certainly won't make nice if you do anything other than what you've been doing – treating me like the equal partner that I am."

"I like you," he admitted, "you always cut to the chase."

"It helps that Talbot and I were able to fend off your psychic advances. Seriously, Sybok," she cocked a hand on one hip, "the mind melding and psychic pain elimination rounds are fine parlor tricks for the weak-minded such as J'onn. Make them into your Galactic Army of Light and spin your nonsense on them. But the rest of us? Not so much."

"I just need to perfect my techniques. And this should prove to be an unparalleled opportunity. I would be coddled, I imagine, and grouped with other Vulcans. I can play dumb and I bet they'll teach me everything I need to know. So give me a few months, all right? In the meantime, I'm sure you can get something rather valuable for my person. I can see there'll be a good price. Take the horse, too."

"The _horse_?" she turned up her lovely nose a bit.

"You'll need her, I'm sure." He turned back to everyone else in the room. "I would like to go with you. But Caithlin here should get the reward that you spoke of, yes?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Kirk flipped open a communicator. "Mister Scott?"

"Aye, sir," came Scott's voice through a tinny speaker.

"I'd like for you to assemble a portable replicator, and bring it to the transporter room. Make it a priority. Kirk out."

"Oh," Caithlin said, "and what else, for Sybok here?"

"That should be plenty," Spock stated, "The replicator can fulfill most of your needs, Miss Dar."

"Maybe," she sighed dramatically. "Nimbus III isn't supposed to have weapons. Can you make any with a replicator?"

"Possibly. I'll have Scotty disable those functions," Kirk vowed, "and for ammunition, too. But it should be more than enough."

"How do _you_ know what I need? I want off that miserable rock."

"One step at a time," said the captain, "why don't you contact your government and see if you can be recalled? We can't really help you in that area, you know."

"Could she make a shuttle with it?" asked Sybok.

"Affirmative," stated Spock, as Scotty arrived with the device.

"Where does this go?" the engineer asked.

"To a transporter pad and down to the surface with Miss Dar, once you've disabled all ammunition and weapon creation functions," the captain explained as Scotty got to work and made the necessary adjustments. Kirk looked at the Romulan. "Are we in agreement?"

"For now," she stated.

"Energize," commanded Kirk as he and Scotty backed off.

Sybok turned to Spock. "So, brother, did you take my old advice?"

Spock just stared straight ahead as they walked with a Security team to guest quarters. Once they had arrived, he turned and looked at Sybok. "Father will be pleased that you live."

"Are _you_?"

"I am," Spock admitted, "but it is also rather unsettling."

"I understand," Sybok stated. "And you have pain, brother. I can take it away, you know." He stepped slightly closer.

Spock stared at him but did not touch him or offer so much as a Vulcan salute. "I will leave you now. I cannot discuss this at this time."

Throughout the course correction back to Federation space, Spock did not speak with his only sibling, and Sybok wondered why he had been rescued from the boondocks of Nimbus III, just to be ignored by his own brother.

You've Got to Hide Your Love Away

Here I stand head in hand  
Turn my face to the wall  
If she's gone I can't go on  
Feeling two-foot small

"That is incorrect, Eriecho. You must try again." There were two women in the Quonset hut that Eriecho shared with her adoptive father, Saddik.

"But it is so very difficult," Eriecho complained a little.

"Yet this difficulty is why we are Vulcans. It is the suppression of emotions and the acceptance of logic as an overarching force in one's life that defines us, just as surely as the copper base of our blood, and the points at the tips of our ears."

"Humans don't seem to feel the need to do things like this, T'Bek," Eriecho pointed out, "and neither do Suliban."

"All too true. And Enolians and Imvari do not behave in this fashion, either. Why, you could come up with several such counterexamples. Yet they are not us." T'Bek, an older woman shook her head a little. "What I should like to understand, Eriecho, is why you are attempting to learn this at all."

Eriecho looked up, and T'Bek continued. "I well recall when I was informed that you had first come to the Martian sanctuary with Saddik. You were barely literate in the languages of your adoptive parents – Suliban and Vulcan – and not at all in Federation Standard. Apart from basic geometry and fractions, and some decimal work, your mathematical education was limited to the four basic operations. You knew nearly nothing of sciences, or history, or of our culture. Colonel Shaw put out a call for a tutor."

"That's right. He did not think I should attend school with small children."

"Yes. And so I was brought in, to tutor you for a few days every week."

"And I have appreciated it, Miss T'Bek. I know that the twice weekly transport ship from Callisto must be tedious."

"It is of no trouble to me. I am able to use the time wisely, and either prepare my lessons for you, or meditate. It has been rather gratifying to be able to return to teaching." T'Bek paused. "You are a capable student. You have learned more, and at a more rapid pace, than was initially expected. Yet it was a few months ago, in March, that you asked me to teach you how to be a more proper Vulcan. And as I have made my attempts, you concede that it is rather difficult. That is made more so by your advanced age. Most Vulcans who learn such concepts are under five years of age, and they have mastered them by age seven. And so I ask you again, as you are in a rush and want it all to be completed in less than a year, why are you attempting this?"

"Ever since Sollastek and I agreed to wed, back in March," Eriecho explained, "I have thought about how to become a good wife to him. I have also considered how to become a good mother, when the time comes, and even for our children currently being carried by surrogate mothers. The construction of the larger Quonset hut for us to use as a marital home – that has provided me with some time."

" _And_?"

"And I have drawn the conclusion that my currently illogical and emotion-filled state might be passed onto our children. Miss T'Bek," Eriecho explained, "We are often shunned for being different. I do not wish such a fate upon my offspring."

"Would you and he go elsewhere?" asked T'Bek. "There are other sanctuaries."

"There are, yes, but then I would be separated from my father. It is, further, my understanding that the other sanctuaries are even more regimented, and their inmates could very well be even more unforgiving of differences. Besides," Eriecho admitted, "I really like it here. I like Colonel Shaw's system. And I have befriended Private Theo Carter. However, I would like to see Earth at some point."

T'Bek said, "A visit to Earth could prove to be a very good idea indeed."

"But I have still not mastered these lessons."

=/\=

Colonel Shaw sat in his office. There was a communications chime. "Julie Parker!" He smiled, even though the call was audio only. "My favorite reporter! What can I do for y'all?"

"I've heard some rumors through my sources."

"What sort of rumors?"

"That Ambassador Sarek has another son. And he's been thrown out of eight sanctuaries so far."

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that," Shaw replied. "But we'll be having a wedding here pretty soon. Come as my guest and you can talk to any of our residents you'd like."

"Is that a professional invitation only?"

"Of course not. This one promises to be different; it's going to have Vulcan, Suliban, and human elements to it."

"I'll wear my little black dress."

He grinned. "I look forward to that. Shaw out, honey." He shook his head a little. "I am a lucky man," he murmured, looking over the reports and orders on his PADD. "Yep, we'll have the pleasure of hosting you, Sybok, arriving today, I see." He sighed. "The last stop, eh? Welcome to the Island of Misfit Toys."

=/\=

Theo Carter stood in the dim Martian sunshine, taking a break from working on the new double-sized Quonset hut. A fellow MACO walked outside to join him. "We've got the desks assembled and the bed frames, too. Paint's almost dry in the main meditation room area."

"Oh, uh, good. It was pretty nice of those Earth and Andorian artists to donate wall hangings and paintings, eh?"

"Sure. I'm not so sure about the abstract stuff, but I bet the Vulcans'll love it." He paused. "Four bedrooms. I guess we're expecting little Vulcans."

"Eventually, I guess. And not just Eriecho and Sollastek, I bet," Theo said. "They'll want guest rooms, too. She's going to want to have her father over, that sort of thing. Maybe even the surrogates and the kids when they come. Who knows? If it were us, it would just be complicated, but not horrible. For them, though, I bet it's mortifying, if they think about it too much, and look at it too closely."

There were sounds outside. "Sounds like a shuttle," said the MACO to Theo.

"It does. Let's let that paint dry, and see what all the fuss is about."

It was definitely a shuttle. Shaw came over to meet it as Vulcans came out of their Quonset hut homes to investigate. A MACO pilot opened the hatch and came out, and was followed by a bearded Vulcan. Eriecho and T'Bek were standing outside Eriecho's home. "That's only the second Vulcan I have ever seen with a beard," Eriecho said, "the only other one I know of is Saddik."

"It makes one wonder as to where he was found." T'Bek raised an eyebrow slightly.

Shaw strode over. "I'm Colonel Jack Shaw. I run this facility. Y'all must be Sybok."

"I must indeed!" roared Sybok, laughing. "This is my ninth tour, and only in some three or so months! I'll bet that's a record. Are you sure you want me, Shaw? I'll terrorize your residents and disturb their peace! And don't get me started on suppressions."

" _V'tosh Ka'tur,"_ T'Bek murmured quietly.

"I beg your pardon?" Eriecho inquired.

"No emotional suppression," T'Bek explained. "With you, it is because you were never taught. But with _him_ ," she gestured vaguely, "I am of the belief that he rejected it outright. That is a far different thing."

"There are those who reject it?" Eriecho asked.

"A few. But they are generally outcasts, such as yourself."

" _Ladies!_ " Sybok bellowed, looking at them both and coming over. He ignored Shaw for the moment. T'Bek turned away, but Eriecho looked him in the eye. "Aren't you afraid – ooh, that's an emotion – but _aren't_ you?" 

"Afraid of _what?_ " asked Eriecho, defiant.

Sybok stepped back a little. "I wasn't expecting such a response. But I'll complete my question. Aren't you afraid that my emotions will rub off on you?"

Sollastek and Saddik were walking over. Eriecho looked the strange Vulcan in the eye and responded, "Aren't you afraid that _mine_ will rub off on _you_?"

Twist and Shout

Well, shake it up, baby, now (Shake it up, baby)  
Twist and shout (Twist and shout)  
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, baby, now (Come on baby)  
Come on and work it on out (Work it on out)

"Is this seat taken?" There was an empty seat next to Eriecho, in the big dining hall, where everyone in the Martian sanctuary took their evening meal. This was not an uncommon occurrence. What was more uncommon was that it was the newly arrived Sybok who was doing the asking.

"Uh, no it is not." Sollastek was on the other side of her. Across from her was Saddik and, across from Sollastek, was Valeris.

"Good! The accommodations are better here than at my last lodging," announced Sybok.

"This sanctuary is superior to the others? The Colonel will wish to hear that. It will please him, I imagine," Saddik remarked.

"Oh, no, I wasn't talking about the other sanctuaries. I meant that godforsaken corner of the universe known as Nimbus III."

"I have never been there," Valeris stated. There was an elderly matron seated on her other side, on the long bench at their table. The older woman sniffed disapprovingly. "Well, I have _not_ ," Valeris added, a little more loudly, "I plied my trade under more congenial circumstances."

"Trade?" inquired Sybok.

"I am a Pon Farr comforter. My services are in rather high demand."

"That is only because so few of our people have bonded," Saddik added, gesturing, "Not like Eriecho and Sollastek here."

"Oh?" asked Sybok. He turned to Eriecho. "Are congratulations in order?"

"We will wed in about a month," Sollastek interjected.

"Why the delay?" asked Sybok.

"There are very few of us who are marrying," Eriecho said, "and there need to be new sleeping arrangements made. Hence the MACOs are building us a new home, and they are taking a great deal of care. It is of _double_ the size of the standard Quonset hut homes." She could not help it, even though she had been practicing her suppression techniques, for a little bit of pride to creep into her inflections.

"It sounds very nice, but aren't those prefabricated dwellings? They most likely only take an hour or two to be constructed, even taking the utmost of care."

"It is my understanding," Saddik offered, "that there are several extensive modifications being made. It is all in accordance with the strong urging by the administrators to have us all wed each other." He shot a look at the matron. "At least, for those of us who are younger and fitter than the norm."

Sybok's eyes darted from one face to another and he smiled, and there was a twinkle in his eye. He addressed the matron directly. "And you don't approve, eh, madam? Tell me, for I'd be willing to wager a great deal of coin that you've got some degree of personal pain." He brandished a spoon and leered just a little bit at her. "I could assist you in unburdening yourself. And I suspect you'd change your mind about a few things." He winked a little, at her, but also at Valeris.

The matron's eyes flashed for just a second, and whether it was anger or desire or disapproval or something else was hard to ascertain. Then she saw someone she knew, another one of the crop of matrons at the sanctuary. She took her bowl and left, in order to sit with the gaggle of matrons.

Sybok laughed a bit. "See, this is why I voluntarily absented myself from oh so proper Vulcan society. A lot of it's terribly tedious." He tasted his food. "Not to mention bland. Please pass the salt, will you?"

When Eriecho passed the salt shaker to him, their hands touched for a fraction of a second, and he saw the interior of a cell at Canamar Prison. Flustered for just a moment, he blinked his eyes a few times. "Huh. I suppose I'm not the only one who's come here from a worse situation."

"I think that we have all been brought to something better," Sollastek opined.

"You may be right," Sybok said, "but for people like, like that woman," he gestured at the seat that had been vacated by the matron, "they don't seem to have fully realized that just yet. And so, I suppose, they find it easy to look down on a place like this, and even on the people in it."

"That much is true," Valeris confirmed, "there are many of them who rather actively shun our group. They disapprove of our origins, or our associations, I imagine."

"Many of us have seen truly horrible things," Sollastek added. "I was there when our home world was destroyed, as was Valeris. It was a day I will never forget." Valeris nodded slightly in confirmation. "Many of the others, I am certain, have suffered their own personal traumas."

Sybok nodded. It was a veritable smorgasbord of pain.

=/\=

Just outside of Atlanta, Spock Prime sat on his front porch, watching the various people in the neighborhood. Children, on occasion, would stare, until they were pulled away by their apologetic parents. One little girl was particularly bold. She rushed up before her very pregnant mother could stop her. "Are you a Vulcan, Mister?" the girl asked.

"Yes, I am," he replied.

"I'm sorry," said the child's mother. "We all felt so horrible when we learned what had happened to your world. I couldn't help but to volunteer," she patted her own belly once. "It just seemed the right thing to do."

"Thank you, Madam." There was a communications chime and he slowly stood up, and his left knee cracked softly. "I must go."

"We'll see you around." The mother held her hand out. "C'mon, honey." Her daughter took her hand and the two of them departed.

Spock Prime turned to the front door before flipping open his communicator. "Spock here." He opened his door and walked inside the home, which was an old Victorian.

It was the younger Spock. "We found Sybok. I had meant to inform you before, but there were complications with getting him transferred."

"Yes, he can be a trying individual," commiserated Spock Prime.

"I did not complain."

"It doesn't matter," Spock Prime replied to his younger counterpart, "For I know you all too well."

"That is true. Sir," said the younger Spock, "I must inform you that Sybok has been through eight Vulcan sanctuaries already. He is in a ninth, on Mars. I have not told him of your existence but he is entitled to know."

"He is," agreed Spock Prime, "and I did suggest that you find him. You have. I would be remiss if I did not contact him. I will do so."

"Very well."

"Before you leave," Spock Prime asked, "did you come into physical contact with him?"

"I did not, and I advised others not to, either. So far as I am aware, Sybok was not in any physical contact with any of the crew of the _Enterprise_."

"And in the sanctuaries, his dubious gifts would likely be less of an issue for Vulcans. However, those sanctuaries are run by humans and Andorians and the like. It is possible that he has made some contact and has already begun attempting to recruit his Galactic Army of Light."

"Then it is my turn to urge you to be cautious," said the younger Spock.

"Affirmative. Spock, are you not the least bit curious about the conversation that Miss Uhura and I had, the last time we were in communications?"

"I admit I am, a little."

"She inquired as to whether her counterpart and I had been in a relationship. I will tell you what I told her; we were not. You and I, sir, are different, despite our identical DNA."

"Our nature is the same," agreed the younger man, "yet our nurture differs."

"As may Sybok's," Spock Prime conceded. "I scarcely know what to expect with him. Spock out."

=/\=

As the evening meal finished, Sybok asked, "So, what does everyone do around here, after the dishes are cleared?" They were outside, and the stars were starting to decorate the cool Martian night.

"Do?" inquired Sollastek.

"For fun!" Sybok smiled, "Or at least for entertainment or even education."

"We have looked at the stars on occasion," Valeris said, "Saddik has assisted me with differentiating Phobos from Deimos."

"The MACOs have music that I have never listened to, and they have films," Eriecho explained. "We have watched a few. Theo has recommended some. I recently watched an interesting family film called _The Incredible Journey_. It was about lost pets who find their way home again. I believe it was originally made for human children to enjoy, but the Earth wilderness was very beautiful."

"Does he have more adult entertainments?" asked Sybok.

"Possibly," Saddik answered for Eriecho. "The humans are mindful of the fact that there has been a great deal of trauma amidst our people. And so they are offering mainly gentler entertainments. There are apparently films about war and the like and those have not been made available to us."

"We are not children," Sybok insisted, "We should be able to choose."

"They want to do what is best," Valeris said. "They appear to be making a valiant effort."

"Yet they're also stifling your freedom! Don't you want to venture outside of the gates? After all, you only live once! Don't you want to be free?" Sybok roared. A few other Vulcans stared and hurried away.

"Where would you go, if you even could be free?" Sollastek asked.

"I came here," Sybok admitted, "because I was coming from a wretched place, the armpit of the universe! And while I recognized that people might have some sort of an idea of what was best for me, I had it in my mind – and I still do – that I am a grown man and can think for myself. I can make my own decisions as to what to do, where to go, and who to talk to, among other things."

"Perhaps that is why this is your twelfth sanctuary assignment," a matron clucked as she strolled by.

"It is only my ninth, dear lady!" Sybok called after her. "But you know," he said to his companions, "if there was a reason to stay, I would."

A MACO jogged over. In the Martian twilight, it was hard to tell who it was, but he was a tad breathless. "Colonel wants to see you, Sybok."

"If I'm going to my tenth, then we should write this day down in history," Sybok joked, "less than a day – _a new record_!"

=/\=

The MACO left Sybok in Shaw's office and shut the door. "I've gotten a call," Shaw began.

"I see. Tell me, Colonel, will I go to the Lafa System next? Or somewhere else?"

"Y'all aren't being kicked out," Shaw replied. "It was a call from a guy who said he's your brother."

"Ah, Spock. He serves on the _Enterprise_."

"No, this feller seemed older. And he said he was calling from Earth."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Earth; he said he was near Atlanta."

"How very odd," Sybok murmured. "What did he say his name was?"

"Selek. You can use communications here to contact him, if you want to," Shaw offered.

"Yes, I thank you." As the communications were set up, Shaw handed Sybok a communicator. For the split second of contact, Sybok saw Shaw on a starship, leading a MACO unit poised to defend against Romulans. "You have pain, Colonel."

"Ever'body does," the human replied, "but I got me someone special. So it's not so bad." He fiddled a bit with the controls. "Ah, here, now it should go through."

"I can place you in my Galactic Army of Light."

"I've done my time in combat," he gestured at the communicator, "go ahead."

"This is Sybok."

"This is Selek."

There was a pause. "This is most interesting," Sybok remarked, "For you sound a great deal like my brother Spock, but your voice is lowered, more of a baritone than a tenor. And you sound much older, older than I am sure my father currently is. Tell me, for while I feel that all men are my brothers, but you don't seem to be, at least you are likely not biologically speaking. So tell me, please, why you feel you are my brother, Selek."

" _Brother_ was, perhaps, a poorly-chosen word. I am, you are correct, older than Sarek. I am a kinsman of yours. And I wish to invite you to Earth, as I would very much like to see you."

Sybok glanced over at Shaw. "Would you permit this?"

"With an escort, uh, sure."

"How soon can I leave?"

=/\=

Sollastek brought Eriecho to her door, and his right index and middle fingers touched hers briefly. The contact showed the tiniest of windows into each other's minds – they were both thinking of their upcoming marriage. "We will be wed soon." They stood at the threshold of the Quonset hut that she shared with Saddik.

"Yes. Sollastek?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think Sybok is right, that we should travel and try to have some new experiences?"

"You have already traveled, to a Suliban helix, Eriecho."

"That is true," she allowed, "but it is not the only place where one can travel. Do you recall when I told you that I had met that lovely Earth doctor? She told me Spain was beautiful. Doctor de la Reina said that I would like it."

"But what else do you know of this, this Spain place?"

"Nothing, Sollastek. But Doctor de la Reina was kind. I do not think she would deliberately lead me astray."

"Why do you wish to travel there, so close to our wedding?"

"Sybok had said that one only lives once. And that is very true. What if I regret not going?"

"Regret?"

"Or, well," Eriecho knew that that was an emotion. It was another thing for her to practice suppressing. "What if I become pregnant very quickly? Then it would be so much more difficult to travel, and then I would be tied down."

"Tied down? Our child would tie you down? Or would it be I who tied you down?"

She weighed her words carefully. "I am giving up many things. I am trying very hard to become the Vulcan who you need, a wife you can be proud of. I mean, who would be most agreeable to you. And, and that would be for my entire life."

"You are the one who is voluntarily taking emotional suppression training. I have not asked for this."

"I only want to please you, Sollastek!"

"Eriecho, please lower your voice." The matrons were staring. People were standing in the doorways of their Quonset huts and looking on.

"I will speak as I please!" She wheeled around, looking at their audience. People pretended to be overly interested in the red Martian dust.

"What has brought this on?"

"Sybok is right. We do not have true freedom here. We are controlled, every step of the way, in a captive breeding program, like at a zoological park."

"This is being done for our protection. You forget what happened to our people."

"Our people have rejected me!" Her eyes showed her anger. "Yes, you _did_!" she spoke even louder, addressing their audience. "Don't try to deny it, and pretend that it never happened. And I have been trying now, for months, to learn how to hold my tongue and suppress my true feelings. I have done it so that my family could fit in with all of you! And you don't even notice or care! It's all been for nothing!"

"They did not ask you to do this, either, Eriecho."

"Oh, but they did! Are you blind, Sollastek? They have been disapproving from the very beginning! They _hate_ me!"

"I do not think so."

"They _do_. You _do_ , right? You may deny it, and pretend that it's all very neutral and unemotional, but the truth is that you've all been through a ton of trauma. And you all pretend and sweep it under the rug and try to forget it all happened. But it _did_. And you can't take it out on Nero or the Romulans and you can't blame the humans because you owe them your homes! So you've turned your wrath – and don't call it anything else, because that's what it is – you've turned it toward the only ones who you thought you could bully! To a pair of ex-convicts, and a young man who doesn't have anything else, and, and to a Pon Farr comforter who just tries to do her job, even though that makes you squeamish!"

"Eriecho, please," Sollastek's voice was losing its evenness.

A figure was striding toward them, difficult to see in the Martian twilight. "Colonel," Eriecho said, "tell them I'm right."

"I'm not the Colonel." It was Sybok. "I've just been invited to Earth. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity. I'm going to take it, I think. You only live once, and all that."

Eriecho looked from one face to another. "You were correct, Sybok. There is no freedom here, Sollastek. We will never be allowed to be our own persons."

"But we are safe here," he protested.

"We are simply in a better prison. Sybok," she turned to the bearded Vulcan with the strange eyes and the emotional air, " _take me with you_."

Two of Us

Two of us riding nowhere  
Spending someone's  
Hard earned pay  
You and me Sunday driving  
Not arriving

"Are you sure you wish to do this?" Sybok asked. It was a few days later, and he and Eriecho were in a military shuttle with a pilot. Theo was escorting them for their own protection. The Colonel had insisted. The pilot was still going through the last of her checks. There was still time to back out.

"Yes, I am certain."

"Sollastek will be upset, you know."

"He will suppress it. But me, I am weary of suppressions."

"I'm ready to take off," reported the pilot. "Is everybody coming?"

"Yes," Eriecho replied.

As they took off, Sybok told her, "I know what you mean by the suppressions. They're a lie."

"I suppose they had a use, before the destruction of Vulcan," Eriecho surmised, "but right now they seem absurd."

"Like projectile weapons," Theo murmured as he looked back out the shuttle's window at the rapidly shrinking Martian landscape.

"Yes, it's a manner of behaving that's very outdated," Sybok agreed.

They did not speak for the remainder of the trip. When they touched down, Eriecho could scarcely contain her excitement. "Look how _green_ everything is! Oh." She suddenly looked down.

"You okay?" asked Theo.

"I was just thinking of how H'Shema had loved the color green," she explained, voice breaking just a tad. When Sybok looked puzzled, she added, "She was my adoptive mother, a Suliban. We were in Canamar Prison together."

"I saw a very brief glimpse," Sybok admitted, "when you passed me the salt."

"I saw you astride a horse, in a desert."

"This should be the house," Theo said. It was a white Victorian with blue trim and plain white columns in front. He rang the bell and then stepped back to rejoin the pilot, who was looking over the shuttle.

After a few minutes, an elderly Vulcan man answered the door. "So you live, Sybok. I am Selek."

"I do. And I am pleased to make your acquaintance. But tell me, how is it that your voice sounds like a lower version of my brother, Spock's. And your face is like an older version of his. How is this so?"

"Come in," encouraged Spock Prime, "and I will tell you." Theo and the pilot sat down on a glider bench on the front porch. "Are you certain you do not wish to enter?"

"We'll give you your privacy," Theo said, "but we'll be right here. Call us if you need us."

Inside the house, Spock Prime looked at Eriecho. "And you are, Miss?"

"My name is Eriecho. Sybok and I are acquaintances from the Mars sanctuary. How is it that you do not live in one? And how is it that you came to live in this place, instead of any other on Earth?"

"I received a special written dispensation from Sarek himself. I settled here, though, in this particular area, because of an old friendship."

"Friendship?" asked Sybok.

"Yes. I had a friend, Doctor Leonard McCoy. This is his hometown."

"Is this his house, or near it?" she asked.

"No; this is just the same town. He is lost to me now. He is not what he was."

"I'm sorry," Sybok said sincerely, "you seem bereft." He quickly changed the subject. "How are we related?"

"Sit down," Spock Prime requested. They were in a front parlor with a divan and a wing chair. He settled into the chair and gestured to the divan as the others sat down.

"Well?" pressed Sybok.

"In 2387, a Romulan named Nero went back in time. He landed several years ago, in 2233, and in 2258, he destroyed Vulcan."

"Some of this is already commonly known," said Eriecho, "although not the piece regarding time travel."

"What most people do not know is that a ship came in at the same time as Nero's vessel. That ship was my own. I had come to an earlier time when I had been alive."

"Wait, so you're telling me that there are two versions of you, Selek?" asked Sybok.

"I am, and that my name is not Selek," Spock Prime paused. "It is Spock."

Sybok's jaw dropped, "I, I thank you for insisting that we sit down." He thought for a moment. "And so it was correct when you called me _brother_."

"This is more than passing strange," Eriecho stated. "There are two of you?"

"Yes," Spock Prime confirmed, "but we are dissimilar. The very beginnings of our lives were identical, and we naturally have the exact same DNA. But our ultimate behaviors differ."

"Then there must have been another version of me, as well," Sybok stated, "For I am older than Spock. I mean, I am older than the, the other version."

"And of me as well," Eriecho said, "I was born in 2228. I would not have been imprisoned. My parents – the biological ones – they would not have died. I would never have been adopted by H'Shema and Saddik. I would never have been loved by Sollastek." She got up, jaw trembling a bit, and walked over to a window in order to try to collect herself.

"I do not inform you of these things in order to distress you," Spock Prime assured. "Tell me, Sybok, have you created a Galactic Army of Light yet?"

"So you know about that. It is still in its infancy. I have not had much luck with it, I'll admit."

"Fascinating. Hence I believe that it is entirely possible that, in this timeline, you would not be able to do what you did in my own timeline."

"Which was?"

"You hijacked a starship, and attempted to take it to the center of the galaxy. You were searching for Sha Ka Ree, but all you found was a malevolent alien. Sybok, you sacrificed yourself in order to save the rest of us."

"I, I did?"

"Yes," Spock Prime confirmed, "it was not until later that I realized what I had lost."

"I can feel myself slipping into those behaviors. I fear I might be ill. Spock, I don't wish to go down that path. This is; it is a second chance."

"Affirmative. Sybok," Spock Prime said, "I told my other version to not touch you, and risk touch telepathy. But I think you and I should attempt a meld. I am an experienced mind melder, and believe I may be able to assist you."

"Are you certain? Spock, I wouldn't want to damage you."

"Eriecho will be close by in the event that either of us is in distress. I am certain that this can be done. If I am correct, it is _Pa'nar Syndrome_ , and a correctly performed meld can cure it."

Eriecho turned at the sound of her name. "What shall I do if there are complications?"

"Take a communicator and call for a physician," Spock Prime stated. He came over and sat on the divan with Sybok. He placed a hand on the other man's face. "My mind, to your mind. My thoughts, to your thoughts."

Spock saw Sybok leaving Sarek's home, coins in his hand. He saw Sybok opening his pack later that day, and finding a few toasted flat cakes made of grain. He saw Sybok working various menial labors and then arriving on Nimbus III, and saw him being thrown out of one sanctuary after another, and even the brief contact with Eriecho and the split-second sight of her imprisonment.

Sybok saw Spock trying to beam down to Talos IV to assist Captain Christopher Pike. He saw Spock beaten by Ekosians, and being attacked by neural parasites. He saw Spock lose his life in Engineering, saw the body shot into space in a repurposed torpedo tube, and saw it land on the Genesis Planet. Sybok saw Spock regain his katra on Mount Seleya. He saw him in Rura Penthe and on Romulus, attempting to negotiate peace. He saw Spock flying a small ship and being thrown back in time. And, finally, Sybok saw Spock dealing with his own counterpart, a man who was a bit delusional and desperately trying to find Sha Ka Ree.

The two men broke apart. "It is done," Spock Prime announced. "A physician will be able to confirm it, but you should be clear of Pa'nar Syndrome."

"How do you feel?" Eriecho asked.

"Free," Sybok replied, "And I am beginning to realize that I can be free wherever I am." He looked at Spock. "What I did to you, can you ever pardon me?"

"That was another version, a man who had Pa'nar Syndrome a lot longer and was much further gone," Spock Prime assured him. "You need not seek pardon; I have already given it."

Sybok bowed his head in gratitude. "I know that Father lives. I would very much like to speak with him. You said you had received his dispensation. Can you reach him?"

"We have only communicated a little, and only in writing," Spock Prime admitted. "It is … unsettling."

"Yet it should be worth it," Eriecho urged. "If I had a sibling or a parent, or someone else so close to me biologically, I would not hesitate. Yet you have waited for years. How long is long enough?"

Spock Prime thought for a moment. "Now," he said, "now is long enough."

There was a computer in a room that Spock Prime used as an office. Eriecho stood back and watched the exchange, and the connection was made.

"Father, it is I, Sybok." Sybok swallowed a little at seeing Sarek. "You have gone grey."

"It has been many years. I am pleased that you live."

"I am so sorry about Amanda, Father. She was very kind. She gave me coins and toasted flat cakes made of grain when I left your home, so many years ago."

"She gave you the coins, yes," Sarek confirmed, "but it was I who gave you the cakes. I could not let you starve, my first born." Upon hearing that, Sybok began to sniffle a little.

"I do not know if I should call you _Father_ ," Spock Prime said, "for it seems a strange thing to say to someone younger than myself."

"What is most comfortable for you is what I wish," Sarek stated. "I will call all three of you my own offspring, and the surrogates' children as well, to anyone who inquires."

Eriecho discreetly left the room, as Sybok was openly weeping. She flipped open a communicator and contacted Mars. "Sollastek, I am sorry. I should not have left so abruptly."

"Have you seen what you needed to see?" he asked.

"That and more," she said, "and it has only served to confirm for me the thing that I have been thinking for years."

"Which is?"

"That family has more than one definition, and that a difference is not a bad thing, not necessarily. It can sometimes be a very good thing."

"We will still be shunned," he pointed out, "and it is likely that our children will be as well. Does that continue to concern you?"

"Not anymore," she stated with conviction. "For I believe now that Vulcans can have more than one definition as well. We will be coming home soon. And I fervently hope that you still wish for me to be your wife, even though I cannot suppress my emotions."

"I will always want for you to be my wife, Eriecho. Suppression, or its lack, has naught to do with it."

Across the Universe

Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup  
They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe  
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind  
Possessing and caressing me  
Jai Guru Deva OM

When the shuttle touched down on Mars, Sollastek was waiting. He and Eriecho quietly and briefly touched index and middle fingers, and he saw her memory of Sybok and Spock Prime speaking with their father. She, in turn, saw him, worried despite his emotional suppression, and his relief at hearing from her.

She smiled at him. "We were successful."

"I should visit a physician," Sybok said, "but one more thing, first, before I go."

"Yes?" asked Eriecho.

"Theo and the others, I recall a few days ago you had told me that there was music available for entertainments. And I listened to some of it, upon the MACOs' highest recommendation. It was four men who called themselves _The Beatles_."

"How odd," Eriecho remarked.

"I know that your wedding will be soon. And you had said that there will be human traditions mixed in with the Suliban and the Vulcan," Sybok continued.

"Yes, it was our decision, to honor our benefactors," Sollastek explained.

"Then I ask you, if there could be some music," Sybok said, "if I might suggest one particular piece? And there should be a dance to go with it, because a guest at a human wedding always wants to dance with the bride."

"There will be touch telepathy," Eriecho said, "would this bother you, Sollastek?"

"I'm not sure. Can you demonstrate?"

"Now?" asked Eriecho.

"If we are going to be different Vulcans, then there is no better time or place," Sollastek said.

Sybok raised an eyebrow. "Very well." He clicked around on his PADD until he found the file he wanted. "Here, I put my hand on your waist and you put yours on my shoulder, and we hold the other hands, and we move our feet around, slowly, in a circle. And I will try not to step on yours." He nodded at Sollastek.

"Ready." Sollastek hit the controls and the music began to play.

The matrons, and others, came out of their Quonset hut homes, and the MACOs came over, too, and Valeris and Saddik joined them, slowly, tentatively, being different. Theo called Shaw on his communicator, and the director came out, too, and smiled at the sight.

Sybok saw Eriecho when she had first realized that she loved Sollastek, and he felt her love for her fiancé and could see that it was a good match, and that they would be happy.

Eriecho saw Sybok at peace, and saw him, years ago, bending down to talk to a very young Spock, telling him to continue playing and being a child for as long as possible.

And the matrons, who saw only what they wanted to see, saw four people keeping unseemly contact. But anyone with an open mind saw kindness and friendship, independence and family. And they saw Vulcans, as new and as different as a new timeline and a new reality, but no less Vulcan for that.


End file.
